


gemini

by bluebot



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, a twist on the idol/fan au, happy ending not guaranteed, the real enemy was capitalism all along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-05-12 11:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebot/pseuds/bluebot
Summary: Mark Lee meets Haechan, and thus begins Donghyuck's ascension to stardom.In a world where an idol's patrons determine the success or failure of their career in a cutthroat industry, Donghyuck finds his mask slipping when it comes to charming his latest patron, a wealthy businessman named Mark Lee.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this is going to be a little different from my normal fics. i’m not trying to write the story of two people falling in love. this is more the story of one person’s fight for their dream in a broken system. i'll try and provide warnings whenever possible. i'm not aiming for romanticizing portrayals of anything in this fic. okeydokey with that out of the way.. i hope u have fun reading !

Whenever interviewers asked about how it felt to perform onstage, Donghyuck was always careful to mention the rush he got. The thrill it gave him, singing and dancing in front of so many eyes. So many of their fans, all screaming for him, empowering him.

He never mentioned the nerves, though he still got them, even after four years. Whenever he readied to perform, his palms would sweat. They got warm and swampy and gross, and he had to wipe them off before being handed the microphone, or before taking the hand of a patron. He couldn’t say that, though. Sweaty hands weren’t exactly alluring.

“ – Haechan.”

Donghyuck’s head lifted up. Johnny was looking back at him with an unimpressed expression on his face. He’d clearly just finished up delivering some important information that Donghyuck would need for the night. Donghyuck smiled, small. Not his stage smile, not his Haechan smile.

Johnny had been his manager for three years of his four year career, he’d have seen right through that.

“Sorry, Johnny,” Donghyuck surreptitiously ran his hands along the tops of his jeans. He interlaced his fingers behind his head, and reclined back against the carseat, “Can you repeat that?”

Johnny’s expression softened, somewhat, just a little, just his brows becoming less severe. Donghyuck fancied himself a pretty good read of people, and he liked Johnny. He liked him as much as he could like a manager of his, anyways. It was hard to say he was fond of him though, when it was always Johnny delivering the news of his latest schedules and meetings.

“As I was saying, your patron for tonight is vital. Members of his family have purchased numerous company packages from other groups before, but he’s a first timer.”

Donghyuck nodded, his thoughts drifting again. He wondered, vaguely, what the patron would look like. If he was attractive. It helped a little, when they were. Despite what the rumors said, idols weren’t soulless. A pretty face did a lot to ease the discomfort.

“Any clues why he picked me?”

Johnny could have ignored the question. Donghyuck’s previous manager would have. But instead, he looked down at his phone, and scrolled through it for a moment. Through its translucent screen, Donghyuck could see lines and lines of writing, mirrored, the words too small to possibly decipher from where he was sitting.

“Says here that he’s a fan of Haechan’s voice.”

Donghyuck’s mouth twisted. That gave him nothing about the guy. Every patron said that.

“That’s all?”

Johnny’s lip curled. Donghyuck liked him, and he liked him even more when he smiled. He liked being the cause of it.

“I’m sure you can pick up something else from him. Worse comes to worst, you can sing him a song.”

Donghyuck hummed a few bars of The 7th Sense, absentmindedly.

Johnny’s smile remained on his face for a beat, before his lips turned down again. He turned from Donghyuck, facing back to the front of the car. Ahead, the nightlife of the city was just waking, all the neon signs of clubs and bars crackling to life, and all the fluorescent office lights in the windows of skyscrapers slowly being snuffed out, one by one.

“Mark Lee’s important. He’s got money… or, his family does. But the company would love it if you charmed him tonight.”

Donghyuck nodded, dutifully, his thoughts going back to his past experiences charming patrons. Behind his head, his palms starting to grow hot again. Before long, they’d be sweating. He took them off, placed them back on his jeans. It wouldn’t do to muss up the back of his hair.

“I’ll do my best.”

 

Mark Lee wasn’t bad looking. He was a fair bit younger than Donghyuck had expected, too. While Donghyuck had many patrons his age, or a little older, they were usually female. The male ones were often older by a few years at least.

He was a little plain, though, Donghyuck thought. He felt mean for it, and then felt stupid for feeling mean. Mark couldn’t sense his thoughts. He had them well hidden away, and what he thought didn’t matter, anyways.

Donghyuck looked around the hotel room they were in, composing his features into openness, into a softer, sweeter look. A mask for the patron.

“You must have paid a lot for a room this nice,” he said, meaning that at least.

Mark Lee had probably had to pay extra on top of the normal package for a suite like this. He’d been to too many rooms and too many hotels, and this was the most lavishly furnished one in his memory.

Mark paused, champagne bottle poised above a couple of flutes. Donghyuck tried not to let his lip curl up at the picture he painted. Plain face, cliché champagne. Even the clothes he was wearing – white pants, and a white sweater – were expected. Mark Lee wasn’t anything noteworthy. He kept his features composed, though he was reminded why he had looked away from Mark in the first place.

Mark blinked, his eyes wide.

“Do people not normally do that?”

There was that split second calculation that Donghyuck always had when asked a question, that moment it took him to hammer down what the patron wanted him to say, what Haechan should say.

He relaxed after that moment of thought, leaning back against the bed. He didn’t miss the way Mark’s eyes tracked him moving, the care with which he followed Donghyuck.

“They certainly don’t. You really know how to make a guy feel special, Mark.”

Mark hesitated. He didn’t smile right off the bat. It took a few moments, and when his lips curled up it was awkward more than anything. Donghyuck’s heart thudded. He’d calculated wrong somewhere along the line. He’d made Mark feel awkward.

He retraced his words, wondering which one had been the faulty one. His annoyance with Mark’s boredom from moments before was gone, replaced by annoyance with himself for getting Mark wrong. Getting Haechan wrong.

“Right,” Mark said, with that awkward smile, “I’m glad you feel special, Haechan.”

He ducked his head, and went back to pouring the champagne. Donghyuck watched him more closely as he finished up and carried the two glasses over. He stood, as if unsure, one glass outstretched.

Donghyuck took it. He’d drink a glass. He sometimes would, just to make it easier on himself. It also helped the patron loosen up. It seemed Mark needed a lot of that.

“Come on,” Donghyuck patted beside him on the bed. He drew his leg up, folding one in a way he knew would look playful, inviting, “Join me. Let’s chat.”

But Mark glanced away from Donghyuck, his gaze drifting to the lounge chairs set up in a corner of the suite, facing the windows.

“I was thinking. I mean – I got a room with a seating area. We could talk there?”

Donghyuck’s heart did a weird thing at Mark’s suggestion. Talking meant more work, mental calculations. Even after four years, he still slipped up, especially one on one, especially when he couldn’t ease his way out of it.

“Sure,” he said, though, smiling bright and wide, “Sounds great.”

 

And talk they did. They _only_ talked. Donghyuck couldn’t remember the last time a night had passed with so little… effort. He still tried to flirt, to initiate. He knew what was expected of him by the higher ups at the company.

Charming, he asked Mark what his favorite feature of Haechan’s was, making sure to purse his lips, to subtly stretch his legs. But Mark was so unwieldy, so awkward. Even then he had blustered through some bumbling answer about Haechan’s voice, making not a single mention of a single physical feature.

Even with the bottle champagne half finished, Mark hadn’t made a move or been receptive to a single one of Donghyuck’s attempts. If Donghyuck hadn’t known better, he would have thought Mark hadn’t noticed. But no one could be that oblivious, surely. Maybe Mark was one of those that wanted to wait, Donghyuck thought. Maybe he was one of those patrons who acted all proper, until a couple nights in, when they had you pinned.

When only thirty minutes remained until Donghyuck’s designated time to leave, and all he had to show for it was a few swapped stories about the most inane things (Mark’s week at work in his management position in his father’s company, Donghyuck’s stories of performances and dance practices that he suspected Mark had heard repeated on about a thousand radio shows before), Donghyuck tried once more, a last ditch effort.

“Mark,” he began, cutting Mark off in the middle of a sentence. He made his voice alluring, but still light, coy, “What do you want to do tonight?”

“Huh?” Mark blinked. His eyes were widening once more.

Donghyuck set his emptied glass aside, and leaned towards Mark. He noted the way Mark’s eyes flitted across the length of his body.

“I think we could do something more fun than this, don’t you?”

Mark’s lips parted, “What do you want to do, Haechan?”

That was annoying. Donghyuck tried not to show his frustration. What did Mark think Haechan wanted to do? What did Mark want? What would get him to give the company glowing, effusive words about Donghyuck tonight?

Donghyuck took his reactions so far in, deciding at once that Mark was the type of boy who wanted an excuse. Just an excuse, to grab and seize and claim what he already wanted. No one was this innocent, this oblivious. Mark was acting, just the same as Donghyuck.

“I want you to fuck me,” Donghyuck said, sweetly. He blinked slow, in a way he knew flattered his features, “Doesn’t that sound fun?”

It was then that Mark choked on his latest sip of champagne, spraying it all over himself and Donghyuck. It was then that Donghyuck knew, with utmost conviction that, for the second time that night, he’d grossly miscalculated Mark Lee.

“Oh my God,” Mark gasped, once he’d regained the ability to breathe, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Donghyuck managed, “I shocked you, didn’t I?” he tried a giggle. He hoped it came off okay.

Mark shot up from his chair, “Let me get you a towel. One second, I’ll be right back.”

Donghyuck watched him go, at a loss. His heart sunk as Johnny’s words about Mark Lee’s importance to the company echoed around his head.

 

“He didn’t want to fuck me,” Donghyuck said, still stunned.

It had taken him minutes to recover after he’d slid into the car with blacked out windows that would take him back to the company, then back to the dorm.

Johnny made a soft sound, perhaps offended at Donghyuck’s choice of words. Donghyuck stiffened. He didn’t care if the driver overheard them, but if he was bad enough, Johnny might make a mention of it to someone at the company, and that might lead to repercussions for Donghyuck.

“They don’t always, do they?” Johnny glanced at Donghyuck.

Donghyuck shook his head. No. Not always. But Mark hadn’t even asked for a kiss at the end.

Johnny hummed.

For a moment, with his eyes softened, Donghyuck thought he might hear words of comfort.

“Did he seem content with you, though? Do you think he’ll purchase another idol access package from the company?”

Donghyuck looked away, out into the city lights. He tried not to visibly deflate.

“He said he had a good time, yeah.”

Donghyuck had been surprised at that. He’d been even more surprised at the smile Mark had given him as he’d said it. Strange, wide, awkward and unpracticed. It should have looked repelling, but –

“Good. You did well, Haechan.”

Donghyuck let his eyes fall closed. His body felt jittery, for some reason. Pumped full of anticipation. He put it down to the fact that he hadn’t been fucked, or asked to kiss anyone, or asked to profess his love. He was expecting those, and he hadn’t gotten them, and that was it.

Donghyuck found himself wondering, uselessly, why Mark had refused him. It didn’t make sense, was all. Didn’t he know how the idol packages were meant to work?

 

–

 

The way he’d had it explained to him four years ago, the VIP idol access fan packages were just the next level of fan service. Spend a fortune, buy a one on one meet with your idol that lasted the night. These ‘date’ packages weren’t advertised at all, but they were an open secret in certain circles in the upper echelons of society.

Donghyuck hadn’t known about them until the company had handed him a tablet with a consent form, and a stylus, and asked him to sign.

Well, he’d thought, at fifteen, what’s a couple hours spent with a super fan? It could be fun to get to know your fan that closely. And, besides, the men in the suits handing him the tablet looked very stern, and they kept saying things like ‘everyone else in your rookie group has signed this’ and ‘when they debut, wouldn’t you like to join them?’. Donghyuck had wanted to debut, of course he had, so he had signed.

What he didn’t know, and what he probably should have guessed, is that the nights weren’t like fanmeets in daylight. When it was just you and a fan alone in a room, you were meant to carry out their fantasy relationship. You had to act the part for the whole three hours they had you. You had to do every thing to sell that boyfriend image that had so far been confined to recordings and social media postings.

It was a whole other level, and it was lucky for Donghyuck that he happened to be a natural at it.

Sweaty palms or not, he played into the image the company crafted for him. It was as easy as settling into a uniform, putting on the role of Haechan for the fans. The patrons, really. That’s what they called them, in the company. The patrons’ fortunes were spent well, keeping you in the limelight and your choreography, your music, and your clothing all well funded.

But Mark hadn’t seemed to want Haechan as his boyfriend. He’d talked for _hours_ about nothing, and fled the moment Donghyuck had mentioned fucking. Donghyuck had played his role, and it bothered him more than it should have that Mark hadn’t fulfilled his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donghyuck gets a big payment from a patron and the company takes note

Life went on and, before long, Mark Lee was a distant memory in Donghyuck’s mind. The plain boy who’d spluttered champagne all over his designer ripped jeans was what he became, and only that.

Johnny made sure that Donghyuck knew how displeased the company was that Mark hadn’t immediately contacted them again to schedule another meeting, plunging Donghyuck’s initial annoyance into something twisted, worried. Johnny had seemed to notice his panic when he’d conveyed the message because, soon after, he quietly reminded Donghyuck of the rest of his patrons.

He had more regular patrons then than he’d had since his career had begun. He suspected that he was finally getting close to the older members’ totals. At the very least, he had to be earning close to what Doyoung was, at that point.

“Our youngest’s really maturing,” Doyoung said, at a radio show a week out from the meeting with Mark Lee. His eyes were sparkling, as though he was getting teary eyed. Donghyuck didn’t raise a brow at him for it, though. It was a filmed radio show, and there were cameras pointed at their faces.

“We blinked, and he grew up,” Taeyong put in.

Donghyuck realized he ought to be reacting too, and let a shy smile curl up his lips. He ducked his head, but not so much so that his expression would be concealed from the cameras.

“Please stop,” he said, “You’re embarrassing me.”

“It’s true and you know it! The other day we were reviewing a stage recording and you called yourself sexy,” Ten piped up, prompting delighted hoots from the radio hosts, suitably amused reactions from Jaehyun and Doyoung, and a look of reproach from Taeyong.

Donghyuck laughed along, scratching his head, playing sheepish. He felt a surge of gratitude for Ten. He hadn’t done any such thing, but Ten had gone ahead and said it. He was helping Donghyuck with his image still, even after all these years.

“Is that true?” one of the radio hosts, a man with a forehead that sprouted beaded sweat and a voice a touch slurred asked, “Did you do that, Haechan?”

“ _No_ ” he said, while nodding his head, then mouthing a ‘yes’.

The hosts laughed again. The lady host had sleek hair that fell in curtains about her face as she leaned forward to the mic. She cleared her throat, then said, “Listeners, in case you’re not watching along, Haechan just nodded.”

 

“Sexy?” Johnny prompted, once they’d been whisked away from the radio station and safely ushered into their respective cars.

Taeyong and Jaehyun both had meetings to prepare for, that much, Donghyuck knew. He wasn’t sure where Ten and Doyoung were off to, perhaps back to the dorms. Johnny was taking him somewhere else though, and from the direction they were driving, Donghyuck had a sinking feeling that it’d be the company.

He looked Johnny in the eye, feeling doubtful all of a sudden.

“Should I have denied it?” he asked.

Johnny looked thoughtful, but not upset.

“No,” he shook his head, “no, I think you’re fine.”

Johnny looked down at his phone. Donghyuck could see through his screen that he’d pulled up his messages.

“Actually, you could stand to… well, you’ll see soon enough.”

Donghyuck’s gut twisted. He swallowed, and nodded, wondering but not asking, sure that his questions would go unanswered.

 

Walking in through the company’s doors always filled Donghyuck with a sense of fear, of intimidation and, mixed alongside the two, an odd glimmer of pride. He saw the gleaming floors, the expansive windows, the stainless steel, the tech embedded into every fixture, and knew that he and his groupmates were helping to fund that. Every album, every concert, every night in a hotel room, it all came down to this.

He had to call that burgeoning, looming feeling within him pride, or else he’d feel it invasive, unwelcome.

Workers and staff members and even people in street clothes, likely gawking at the tech and hoping for glimpses of celebrities, walked about. Donghyuck pasted on a smile, a bit crooked, and bit pleased, and changed his posture. He walked different when he was walking as Haechan.

Johnny jerked his head towards the elevators, and Donghyuck strode ahead, pulling a half pace in front of him. He heard some fans notice his arrival before he saw it, their giggles alerting him. Donghyuck glanced their way as he walked by them, though he wouldn’t always. A couple of girls, probably in their midteens, their heads listed towards each other, their hands raised and covering their rapidly moving mouths.

Their talking devolved once more into giggling when they realized they’d made eye contact with Donghyuck. He smiled at them, practiced and easy to summon up though he was distracted, and quickly fixed his gaze to the front again.

Not all fans were the same, he found himself thinking. For some, just a smile was all they needed. Just a glance. He hung his head once the elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the view of the lobby. He exhaled, a sigh.

“Don’t worry,” Johnny was saying, and once Donghyuck processed it, he glanced up in surprise. He wasn’t used to assurances given so easily.

Johnny was frowning, not looking at his phone for once, but not looking at Donghyuck either. He gazed off, eyes unfocused.

“You’re not in trouble.”

“You sure about that?” Donghyuck smiled, weak. He felt like he was being marched to his doom. Nothing good ever seemed to come of being called to the company without the rest of his group.

Johnny glanced down at him, sidelong. There was that nearly undetectable softening of his eyes, as he said, “Pretty sure.”

 

He couldn’t recall the name of the suit that was explicating at length at him about quarterly performances. It didn’t matter. They all blended together. They all said the same thing.

 _Thank_ you, Haechan. We’re so proud of your group, Haechan. If you could just keep up the good work, Haechan. That’s it, Haechan, smile bigger, show your fans that pretty smile.

“...That brings us to your idol access package purchases for the quarter.”

Donghyuck’s ears perked up. If the reproach from the company was coming, it’d be soon. Once more, he felt a prick of annoyance for Mark Lee. If he’d only just played his part, if he’d only just fucked Donghyuck like he was supposed to…

The suit waved his hand, and the slide projected above his desk waved aside with it, revealing a ranking.

Donghyuck’s heartbeat stuttered. He’d been readying himself for disappointment, but his sales had brought him above Doyoung, above Ten, even. He’d earned third most in his group, somehow. He cast about, looking for a reason, coming up empty.

“You’ve done well, Haechan,” the suit had a smile on his face. His eyeglasses glinted, reduced to bright planes of white in the fluorescent light, obscuring his eyes. Donghyuck couldn’t tell if the smile extended that far.

“Thank you,” he said, breathless, still unsure if this was a joke, or if someone somewhere had miscalculated.

The suit’s expression didn’t alter. He acted as if Donghyuck hadn’t spoken at all.

“Now, if you reach top two in your group… well, you can imagine how much of a draw you’ll prove yourself to be.”

Donghyuck nodded, numbly. He looked at the numbers beside their rankings, their sales totals. He’d no idea how he was meant to jump Jaehyun’s numbers. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut. He couldn’t get over how on edge these meetings made him. A reminder that, as close as he felt to his groupmates, they were his competition in a way. A reminder that they saw him that way too.

“If you reach top two, I can see your group’s next single being shaped by your voice,” the suit spoke in a slick way that made Donghyuck want to nod along, but also made him sit on the edge of his seat, eyes straining, wary, “Everyone in the nation will be repeating your words.”

Donghyuck nodded, sharp. He could imagine it, as the suit painted the picture with his words. He could imagine his voice dominating the sound of the song. A sharp yearning, cutting, struck him. He wanted that. He wanted to be a top two earner, to make that happen.

“I’ll try,” he said, small.

“Excellent. That’s great to hear. Your teamwork is commendable, Haechan, as always,” the suit said.

Donghyuck’s gut twisted. He was starting to feel sick. His palms had begun to heat. The suit proceeded to wave his hand again, detailing on last slide on potential plans for upping his success with patrons.

Donghyuck half listened, every mention of alterations to the details of Haechan’s image making his palms feel hotter. The company seemed to have decided that it was time for him to start really pushing the sexy maknae image. There were suggestions for things to say at fansigns, in interviews, even poses to copy on stage. Donghyuck noted them all, filed them away.

As the meeting drew to an end, Donghyuck cleared his throat.

“Sir…” he began. The suit’s glasses flashed white, as he tilted his head towards Donghyuck, the only acknowledgement he’d get.

“If I may ask, how did my numbers rise that much?” he asked the question that had been on his mind from the start, “I’m not doing anything differently. Not yet. I just… don’t understand.”

The suit leaned forward, pressing his hands into the spotless white plastic of his desk. At last, the white planes of light cleared from his glasses, leaving his narrowed eyes unobscured.

“Some kind patron of yours who wished to remain anonymous. He paid five times what he should have. Whatever you did for him… maybe you should try that with your other patrons.”

 _Whatever you did for him…._ said in the suit’s slick voice, there was no mistaking that he thought Donghyuck had allowed some patron to cross some previously untrespassed boundary.

Donghyuck nodded. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth. The moment he was out from the suit’s office, he stalked past Johnny waiting outside, and went right to the bathroom. He wasn’t sick, but it was a close thing.

He splashed his face with cool water, and looked himself in the mirror. Cheery tech embedded in the corner of the mirror informed him that it was twenty-four degrees and sunny outside, but he was shivering.

Donghyuck hadn’t done anything differently. He _hadn’t_. The only anomaly, the only piece that wasn’t predictable and hadn’t gone exactly to plan… was the night with Mark Lee. Donghyuck thought back to Mark’s wide eyes, his awkward manner of pouring champagne and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was behind the jump in his numbers.

Johnny drew into the bathroom, the door closing softly shut behind him. He had a blank look on his face as he surveyed Donghyuck in the mirror.

“You okay?” he asked.

Donghyuck locked eyes with him. He caught his breath, after a moments’ struggle.

“‘m fine. Johnny, I need more information on Mark Lee, if you can get it.”

Johnny raised his brow at the undoubtedly odd request, but he raised his phone, his fingers already poised to fly across the screen, and he said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

The way Donghyuck saw it, he had two options. Three, actually, but one was inconceivable. He could take on more patrons and squeeze them into his schedule where he hadn’t thought to risk it before. He could fit them in between recordings and practices, taking up what little alone time he already had. He could be complacent, too. Do nothing, watch the opportunity to get more lines, more screen time, more of the fans’ love pass him by.

That was the inconceivable option. Donghyuck couldn’t stomach that. He’d never forgive himself if he spent another comeback in the background, getting only seconds of singing. He’d already given so much of his time, his effort, himself in his drive to become an idol. He could give a little more, he was sure of it. He’d come this far.

The last option, the longest of longshots, was getting another patron like Mark Lee. Someone who’d pay excessive amounts just for a few hours. If Donghyuck could get a regular patron like Mark, he wouldn’t have to worry about making the top two in his group. He wouldn’t have to worry about falling out of his company’s good graces and subsequently out of the spotlight.

He regretted again whatever he’d done wrong to drive Mark Lee himself off. Donghyuck scowled at the sunny sky, correcting himself. No, he hadn’t done anything wrong. It had been Mark who hadn’t played the part of the patron correctly. Donghyuck wasn’t in the wrong. He didn’t need Mark Lee, just someone with a wallet the size of his. And to do that, he needed to find out more about Mark Lee’s circle.

 

–

 

While Johnny worked his company connections for information, Donghyuck couldn’t help but do some research of his own. Knowing that Mark Lee had paid a small fortune for just three hours of talking with an idol he didn’t seem to know much about beyond that he had a nice voice had made Donghyuck curious.

When Donghyuck found a quiet moment (and he tried not to think about how relatively easy it had been. His teammates had left him alone in the days since he’d come back from the company with news of the new ranking. He wondered if word had gotten around to them too), he plugged ‘mark lee’ into google, bracing himself.

Literally millions of results. Donghyuck frowned. Mark Lee was a common name, of course. He prepared himself to search it with extra key words, like ‘mark lee rich’ or ‘mark lee awkward’ or ‘mark lee wide eyes’, but an image result stilled his hand.

His thumb paused over a tiny thumbnail of what looked to be Mark Lee – _his_ Mark Lee – in a suit, taken by some paparazzi or something, mid stride. Donghyuck clicked on it without thinking too deeply.

He blinked, as the image expanded, filling his phone’s screen. Mark Lee wasn’t that plain after all, he thought. When he had his hair done up and pushed off from his forehead, when he was in a custom fitted suit, Mark Lee was even a little cute. Donghyuck frowned at the thought. That wasn’t helpful.

He switched away from the image results, and started scrolling.

What Donghyuck found was that Mark Lee was annoying enough to make that little aberrant blip of attraction he’d felt a distant memory. While his elder brothers were constantly in the headlines for being sighted stumbling out of clubs boozed up with some heiress or socialite on their arms, or just narrowly escaping arrest for public indecency (reading between the lines, before cops realized their names and the money behind them), Mark Lee was a golden boy.

Articles reported that he’d gotten good grades in school, played in the school band, and attended school  abroad. There were pictures of his school years, posing in front of ivy covered buildings with smiling foreigners.

He didn’t seem to have as much of his dating in the public eye as his brothers, or any dating life to speak of at all. From the articles of his ascension through his father’s company, Mark Lee lived a quiet life, working and working and occasionally going out for yacht parties with close friends in the finance industry.

Perfect, in seemingly every way. Donghyuck had previously had many patrons like that, though. He’d met many that had treated him in a way that left him asking Johnny to please put in a word with the company so he’d never have to see them again, and that he’d gotten curious about and looked up afterwards. Many of those were the picture of perfection to the outside world, much like Mark Lee.

If Donghyuck didn’t know better, he’d have thought Mark Lee had some fucked up side like the rest of the paragons of normalcy he’d come across in his time as idol. But he did know better. He’d met Mark Lee. He’d spent hours talking to him, testing him, tempting him, and he’d gotten nothing but awkwardness, obliging friendliness.

Donghyuck dropped his phone down onto his bed with a sigh. He reached up to knead his eyes. He was wasting too much time on Mark Lee, he knew it. There wasn’t a puzzle to solve there, a riddle to unravel. He was weird, and just a temporary headache. He’d never contact Donghyuck again.

Donghyuck tried to tell himself to just be grateful for the extra cushion money Mark Lee had given him for their strange night together, and leave it at that.

 

–

 

Donghyuck had also taken to researching idols that suited the image the company suit had described for Haechan. Alluring, sensual, blooming into refined maturity.

He sat hunched over his phone with his legs splayed out on the practice room floor. They were in the middle of a break in an hours long practice for a special stage, but he had to utilize any free time he was able to find. He wiped his hand off on his sweatpants before scrolling, not wanting to get his screen wet with sweat.

He looked up lists, getting through a couple fan ranked top tens of the sexiest idols of the 2050s before Jaehyun came back from the bathroom and he was reminded that he was operating on a strict time frame. He noted the names that kept reappearing. He tried to stay distant, though he personally knew quite a few of them, and had met nearly all.

The fans comments slunk through his thoughts as he set his phone aside, and resumed practice. The fans loved the way that idol looked at the camera. It felt as if he was looking right through it, at them. They felt shivers, all over. They couldn’t get enough.

Donghyuck took care with the details of his bodyline but he paid particular attention to his expressions as he danced. He forgot his groupmates, he was so focused. Jaehyun in front of him and Ten to his side faded away. It was just the pulsing music of the song they were practicing, and his own gaze in the mirror, sharp, dark, and strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to plug my twitter in the first chapter but you can find me [@softiefic](https://twitter.com/softiefic) ! please feel free to visit me there or on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/bluebot) ♡


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donghyuck discovers something interesting about mark and, as a result, his fascination deepens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> few things to note: we meet donghyuck's first patron other than mark in this chapter. for the patrons, they'll all be completely original characters with made up names and personalities, and they may be male or female. 
> 
> also: there are male soloists named taemin, jimin, and jungwoo in this fic's universe. they're all renowned for their success. this is totally a coincidence, i swear.

“Kim Jiwoo’s requested that you dress similarly to your blue outfit from – .”

“ – Touch,” Donghyuck finished, anticipating the rest of the sentence. 

He frowned out the car window, before directing his gaze down towards Johnny. Kim Jiwoo was fond of that blue outfit from the pop song the group had released a year prior. Patrons didn’t always have requests for his appearance but often, when they did, and when they were regulars, they had favorite looks. Kim Jiwoo liked the softer stylings. That wasn’t a problem with Donghyuck. The problem was –

“But… my hair.”

Johnny looked up from his phone. He seemed unconcerned, uncomprehending. Donghyuck felt ridiculous, all of a sudden. He cleared his throat, and gestured at his head.

“It’s always been styled in curls with that outfit. Will we have time to visit the hair stylist before I’m supposed to meet her?”

A small crease appeared between Johnny’s brows.

“Oh. I see,” he seemed to think for a bit, then shook his head, “No, we definitely won’t... Haechan, it was your idea to try and fit in a meeting after your vocal practice. I did warn you about the potential time crunch.”

Donghyuck tapped his fingers against his knee, calculating, always calculating. Kim Jiwoo had keen eyes so she would definitely notice the change, but she might not care so long as he wore the right clothes.

“Yes,” he assented, distracted, “I know. Nevermind. It’s not a problem,” he looked up at Johnny, gave him a warm smile, “She won’t be looking at my hair anyways, right?”

Johnny didn’t smile back. The crease between his brows deepened, and his eyes flicked down from Donghyuck’s gaze. 

“Right.”

 

Kim Jiwoo was a sweet girl, and that was the best Donghyuck could say about her. It wasn’t as though she was particularly rude, or demanding. She didn’t mistreat him, and she never asked too much. She was forgettable, though. Bland. It made him feel guilty to think it, because she was one of his longest regular patrons. She’d been supporting him from nearly the start. 

But he’d since learned that she was just the first in a series of girls who blended together for him, though. Soft voices, the latest designer clothes, features that had been perfected under a surgeon’s scalpel. 

He heard her voice before he landed eyes on her, high pitched, saccharine.

“Haechannie!” she called, before he’d even stepped through the door and into the room. She bounded over as he drew in, bracing himself, plastering a smile on his face.

“Jiwoo,” he said, warm. Though she was a few years older than him, the first time they had met, she had asked him to treat her as if she was younger than him. Of course, he had obliged. 

She enveloped him in a hug, her jewelry pressing cold and sharp against his collarbones. She smelled strongly of a cloying, artificially floral perfume. It was familiar, Donghyuck thought. She must have worn it in one of their previous meetings. Donghyuck wrapped his arms around her, letting her be the first to draw back. 

“It’s been so long,” Jiwoo giggled, “You haven’t forgotten me, have you?”

She was sweet, Donghyuck thought, insistent. He _liked_ Jiwoo. 

“Of course not,” he managed to continue the warmth in his voice, as he took his arms from her, “How could I? Jiwoo, what have you been up to since we last met?”

She practically vibrated as she began to tell him what had passed, at length. Donghyuck nodded, keeping the smile fixed on his face, adding in appropriate reactions at the right moments. He’d gotten pretty good at that, over time. Listening to their stories, half engaged, the other half of his mind running through a note progression he was aching to try, or a series of steps he was struggling with. 

He traced her features as she told him about her friend’s new dog. She was beautiful, of course, but no matter how he tried (and he had tried, in the beginning) he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything more than detached attraction. Later, she would kiss him, and he would kiss back, and his mind would distant. 

Donghyuck wished he could be engaged. He wished he could make himself care about Jiwoo’s friend’s dog, or Jiwoo’s struggle between wearing a pink dress or a green dress that day.

“You chose right,” he said, ducking his head, letting his smile go small and shy, “You look really good in pink.”

Jiwoo blushed. Donghyuck’s stomach twisted, and he told himself that at least she was happy. It was all fake, but it made her smile, and her payment made the company pleased, and that was all he could ask for.

Talking slid into Jiwoo’s clumsy, nearly endearing attempts at flirtation. Donghyuck cracked a real smile upon her umpteenth time telling him he looked nice. She stood out from the other girls in that, he thought. Jiwoo was almost awkward when she tried to hint she wanted him to kiss her.

Awkward. Another patron, in another hotel room, larger than the one they were in then rose unbidden to his mind. Donghyuck’s smile almost slipped from his face at the recollection of that ill-fated meeting, but he caught it. 

Without the teasing and playfulness he normally would have tried first, Donghyuck leaned in to kiss Jiwoo, if only to shock himself into stopping all thoughts of Mark Lee before they arose. 

Why he was thinking about Mark, he couldn’t have pinpointed. He was a professional. He didn’t think about other patrons whenever he was in a meeting with one. He never had before. He kissed Jiwoo with more force than he’d initially intended and she giggled, awkward, uncertain as he drew back.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, distracted, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Jiwoo had perfect lips, pink as rose petals, flushed and plush. They were probably a million times better to kiss than any particular plain looking man’s lips would have been. Donghyuck inhaled, shaky.

“Are you alright, Haechannie?” Jiwoo asked, her voice soft, sweet, “Oh, dear,” she pouted, “They’re not working you too hard, are they? Oh, Haechan. You must be so tired…”

“I’m fine,” he assured her, internally shaking himself. He was supposed to be playing the part of the caring boyfriend. He wasn’t supposed to have worries of his own, “I never work more than I want to, don’t worry. And, besides,” he blinked slow, “Nothing gives me more energy than seeing you.”

Jiwoo’s bottom lip wobbled, before she broke out into a smile, and another fit of giggles. She threw her arms around Donghyuck. With her nerves assuaged, she seemed to have gathered enough courage to act, and began to smother him in kisses. Donghyuck could have sighed in relief. He didn’t. He kept it in, and made an effort to kiss her back in kind.

 

Hours later, Donghyuck’s phone lit up in silent alarm. His time was up. He blinked, gradually becoming aware that he had been spacing out. Jiwoo had fallen asleep maybe half an hour prior, her head rested on his shoulder, her fingers in an unexpectedly tight hold on his waist. He held his breath as he struggled to ply her fingers from him, then slipped from her grasp. 

She slept soundly as he padded from the room, without a glance back. 

Donghyuck was still half spaced out when he entered the car parked at the hotel’s back entrance. Johnny sat in wait for him in the backseat.

“How did it go?” he asked.

Donghyuck gave a noncommittal hum. It had gone the same as ever. Jiwoo had fallen asleep in the middle of him trying out his latest sweet nothings on her. He liked playing the casual boyfriend, especially when it meant the patron fell asleep midway through their meeting. Less acting on his part. But he wasn’t thinking of his acting, not then.

He sucked his lower lip in, and gazed out the window. He had a lot to think about, but the company suit’s promise of hearing his voice around the nation kept rising to the top of his mind. 

 

Donghyuck paused in his steps when he walked into the dorm and saw a figure silhouetted in the dark kitchen. His eyes gradually adjusted as the figure drew a step closer, into the light streaming from the entryway. Doyoung had an unreadable expression on his face. He set a glass of water in his hand aside, placing it with a soft _clink_ on the kitchen counter.

“It’s late,” he said. There was no intonation there, but Donghyuck imagined he could hear judgement.

“I know.” 

He kicked off his shoes at the entryway, then shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You weren’t meeting with a patron, were you?” Doyoung hesitated. His eyes glinted sharp in the low light as he glanced down at Donghyuck’s outfit.

Donghyuck bristled. He had wondered if Doyoung was jealous of Donghyuck’s new place in their group’s sales ranks. This felt like proof. He couldn’t see Doyoung’s features clearly, but his heart sank as he imagined the disdain on them.

“What would you say if I was?” he asked, voice stiff.

Doyoung didn’t reply for a long, burdened moment. Donghyuck didn’t want to fight with him. He didn’t want there to be friction. He didn’t regret taking on the extra meeting, though. Doyoung would get over his jealousy. It would sort out, he thought, though he was unable to keep from tacking on a probably at the end. 

“If you’re exhausted, it affects all of us,” Doyoung said, quiet, “Don’t let them convince you to take on more than you can handle – “

“I can handle this just fine,” Donghyuck hissed, careful not to let his voice rise, just in case the other members were asleep inside their rooms.

“Stay out of it,” he concluded. He hoped that came off more assertive than it sounded to him because, to him, it had sounded more impetuous than impressive. 

Donghyuck paused for just a moment, then swept away before he could hear whatever Doyoung had to say to him. He was just jealous, Donghyuck told himself. He just regretted that Donghyuck would finally get more lines, if he just kept up the pace of his patron meetings.

 

Donghyuck regretted speaking back to Doyoung before he’d even reached his room. He couldn’t sleep well that night, feeling restless, unable to find a comfortable position. To pass the time and to keep his mind occupied, he started to search the idols that the company suit had named as ideals for him to strive towards.

Taemin, Jimin, Jungwoo… eyes narrowing, Donghyuck peered intently at their faces. He studied the pictures in the article that had been captured of them mid-performance. They had an aura about them, some unnameable quality to their features, their pose. Donghyuck stared so long in his attempt to uncover what was behind that quality that the phone blinked off. As its screen plunged into darkness, it revealed the reflection of his own face gazing back at him.

Donghyuck took a breath in, long and low. He set his phone down, facedown. He stared at the ceiling instead, as he contemplated.

 

–

 

When Johnny quietly told Donghyuck that he’d found out as much as he could about Mark Lee several days later, Donghyuck only just managed to hold himself back from launching himself across the waiting room space and hugging him. He was nearly at his wits’ end, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself. 

In the nine days since he had met with the company, he’d had three patron meetings. It wasn’t as though the meetings were physically exhausting, he was careful to differentiate, in his head. They were mentally draining, though. Keeping up a one on one act for hours took more from you than practicing the most intense dance for the same amount of time would have. Donghyuck would know. 

So he didn’t quite jump up in excitement when Johnny delivered the news, but it was a near thing.

“Really?” he asked, breathless. His eyes darted to the makeup artist still packing her things up in the corner of the dressing room. He lowered his voice, “Well?”

Johnny angled away from the makeup artist but he otherwise continued with nonchalance, as though they were just discussing the weather.

“You were right, for the record. He paid enough for a weeks’ worth of nights with you.”

Donghyuck had known it, but hearing Johnny confirm it gave him pause. He did the quick math in his head, adding up how much that would have cost Mark, feeling a grudging sense of awe that he had that kind of disposable income. 

He parted his lips to voice his burning question – Why? – before coming back down to Earth and realizing that Johnny would probably be just as lost as him on that, for all the time he’d spent gathering information.

Donghyuck darted out his tongue to wet his lips.

“It just… doesn’t make sense. We only talked.”

Johnny lifted a single shoulder in a half shrug.

“Maybe the guy misunderstood the pricing and expectations.”

Donghyuck accepted that with more than a little unease. It didn’t make sense. Mark Lee didn’t make sense.

“Anyways,” Johnny cleared his throat, “He’s clean. He’s really straight edge, Haechan. I couldn’t find any record of him buying an idol package like this before. Ever.”

Donghyuck looked up.

“But he’s done it once. What would it take to get him buy another?”

The crease between Johnny’s brows reappeared. He shook his head.

“I have no idea. I talked to someone in sales who deals with the potential patrons and they said that Mark reached out first. He wanted _you_.”

Donghyuck frowned. 

If Mark was just starting out, and trying his hand at patronage for the first time, it didn’t make sense for him to want Haechan. Donghyuck was a member of one of the company’s more successful groups. Meetings with him went for comparatively high rates, compared to members of groups that were struggling to sell even albums. He cast his thoughts back. Mark had said he’d liked his voice, but Donghyuck wasn’t deluded enough to think that his voice was worth spending so much more just for one night where they’d only talked. 

“He didn’t know you by name, though,” Johnny’s face shifted, his features softening. He snorted, “Apparently he just kept asking for ‘the guy with the voice’. Took my friend in sales playing a clip of you in a song for Mark to confirm that it was you he wanted.”

Johnny had said it lightly, as if Donghyuck was meant to laugh. It was funny, sort of. But Donghyuck wasn’t laughing. He felt something small, but noticeable, shift within him. It was something edging towards where it was meant to be, as the beginnings of an idea forming within him.

“Wow,” was all he said, distracted once more, chasing the idea as it coalesced, “Weird.”

Johnny actually cracked a smile, “I’ll say. What kind of a fan is he if he doesn’t know his idol’s name?”

A fan wouldn’t, Donghyuck thought. And that was it, wasn’t it? His heart skipped a beat. Mark Lee hadn’t wanted anything from Haechan because he didn’t _know_ Haechan, not as the rest of the patrons did. Donghyuck couldn’t know that for certain but it made far too much sense, when sense seemed to be a rarity in the case of Mark Lee. 

Mark wasn’t a Haechan fan. 

The thought was more thrilling than Donghyuck could have ever anticipated. It pinged around him, making his body feel light, making the exhaustion from the past nine days shed off from him. Donghyuck wanted another night with Mark more than ever. The guy had the money, and he didn’t ask for much in return. And that was all Donghyuck cared about, he reminded himself. The money.

He felt a smile spread across his lips unbidden, uncalled for. He raised his fingers, glancing his fingertips across his mouth, half in shock. He wasn’t even sure why he was smiling. Donghyuck looked up at Johnny, who was already staring at him, looking at him as though he’d grown a second head. 

Donghyuck didn’t let that deter him, though.

“Hey, do you think it’d be alright with the company if I contacted him first?”

Johnny’s expression got even more disbelieving.

“What?”

Donghyuck lowered his hand from his lips. The smile was already waning, but he still felt light, incredibly light. He hadn’t felt like that in recent memory. Mark didn’t know Haechan, he kept hearing a small voice repeat. It was possible he only just knew his voice, and not a single other scrap of information. 

“Can I call him? Or leave him a message or… I want to thank him,” Donghyuck’s mind raced along with his heart, “For his generous support.”

It sounded plausible. Johnny seemed to think so too, from the way the disbelief left his expression. If Donghyuck didn’t know better, he’d say it was replaced by grudging satisfaction, as Johnny cottoned on to his idea. Johnny crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ll ask,” he cocked his head at Donghyuck, “You really want him to buy another night with you, don’t you?”

Donghyuck nodded. More than anything, he thought. Well, more than anything except _why_ he wanted Mark as his patron so keenly. His dream of singing, of being heard. He wanted that more than anything, but Mark could be a vital part in making that come true.

 

–

 

Donghyuck’s palms were sweating. He kept telling himself he had no reason to be nervous, but saying that and believing it seemed to be worlds apart. 

He inhaled, exhaled, before realizing that this was as good a state as he was ever going to be in. This was as good as he was going to get. He checked his appearance once more in the reflective glass at the back of Johnny’s phone. His distorted reflection served well enough to confirm that his hair was still immaculately tousled, and his eye makeup was still perfectly smudged.

“I’m ready,” he said, quietly. He took a step back to where Johnny had indicated he should stand, then looked up.

Johnny nodded at him. Donghyuck saw his finger move on the phone, a red recording light lighting up, visible through the phone’s translucent screen. Donghyuck opened his mouth, and stopped. He stood there, his lips parted, no words coming to mind. The thought of speaking to Mark, however indirectly he was addressing him, had silenced him.

Johnny frowned.

“Haechan…” he said. He moved his thumb to stop the recording. 

Before he could finish whatever he’d been about to say, Donghyuck shook his head, “I’m fine,” he said, “Sorry. Let’s re-do that. It won’t happen again.”

He’d frozen up because he’d allowed himself to overthink – that is to say, he allowed himself think at all about how he’d speak. If he’d just gone with his instincts, he could have slipped into the Haechan cadence and attitude without pause. But he’d thought, and he’d stopped because of it.

He didn’t allow himself to do that again. Johnny nodded, this time with a frown tugging down the corners of his mouth, and started recording again.

Donghyuck inhaled, wiped his hands on his jeans out of frame, and summoned a sweet smile to his face.

“Hi, Mark! It’s Haechan – you’re probably wondering why I’m sending you a video. Well,” Donghyuck laughed, light, “Word got ‘round to me that you gave me an extra big gift and I guess... I just wanted to give you a special thank you!” 

The more Donghyuck spoke, the more comfortable he felt. His smile was easy to keep on his face. He clasped his hands behind his back and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. He’d learned that trick from countless patron meetings. Giving Mark a demonstration of his nerves could make him appear more endearing.

“I feel like we kinda got off to a rocky start? Or maybe that was just me… anyways, even though I didn’t get to show you my best side, you still gave me so much support.”

_Support_ … Donghyuck was lucky he was so deep into the act, or his face would have done something when he had to say that word.

Donghyuck bit his lip, but took care to do it briefly, to not hold on too long, lest it look unnatural. 

“If we don’t get to see each other again, I’ll just say it now: thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m so grateful for this gift that you gave me, and I won’t waste it.”

When Johnny finally lowered his phone, his expression was unreadable. 

“How was that, do you think?” Donghyuck asked, releasing his hands from behind his back. He brushed them off on his pants again before crossing his arms over his chest, “Felt okay to me.”

Johnny nodded, short.

“It was good, Haechan. I’ll have it reviewed by the company and sent over to his people by tonight.”

Donghyuck tapped his fingers against his side, feeling the press of his ribcage against his fingertips. He hesitated, then nodded, once. It would do. He wouldn’t get his hopes up, he determined. He’d proceed with trying to fit in the smaller spending patrons as much as possible, until – no, he corrected himself – _unless_ Mark reached back out to the company.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donghyuck has a couple successful performances

Donghyuck was grateful towards Doyoung. Even if he still believed that Doyoung harbored some feelings of jealousy towards him, at least Doyoung wasn’t actively trying to sabotage Donghyuck’s earnings from patrons. Doyoung also hadn’t let it affect the way he treated Donghyuck in front of the other members. Practices went off without a hitch, and interviews ran smoothly. 

The day of the special stage performance that they had prepared for weeks came and, with it, Donghyuck’s first opportunity to put all the expression work he’d practiced into action. He couldn’t have imagined how much more nervous he’d feel if the waiting room felt stressful, if Doyoung had allowed Donghyuck talking back to them to turn their relationship sour. Doyoung kept it professional, though, even going so far as to ask Donghyuck if he needed help with his mic when he noticed Donghyuck was struggling with it. 

Donghyuck let Doyoung help him. His fingers were twitchy and his hands were starting to get sweaty. He’d have needed someone else to do it for him no matter what. After Doyoung helped him, Donghyuck gave him a quiet thank you, keeping his gaze low. 

The makeup artist that had been working on him came over to give him a checkup, add some final touches. It seemed she’d be given notice of his new trajectory too, opting to use a heavier hand on his makeup for the day, lining his eyes with a dark kohl pencil. The makeup made his gaze appear sharper, Donghyuck noticed, as he stared at himself in the mirror. 

He angled his head up, and down, checking himself out as the staff member called for them to get ready to go towards the stage. He already looked different from usual but, the moment he tried out that look he’d been practicing, the one he’d studied from the other top idols, the difference seemed even starker. 

Donghyuck exhaled, and looked himself head on. In the mirror, he saw a fluttering smile pass across his face before disappearing. Relief. All his work hadn’t been for nothing. Pride. He’d gotten it, he’d finally nailed it. Nerves, because now it was time to show the world. 

As much as nerves dominated his body before the performance and reduced his mind to nothing more than a live wire, ready to fizzle, while Donghyuck was on stage, all that faded away. Donghyuck was aware of little other than the barest essentials, the most pertinent inputs from his senses. He was cognizant of the group’s formations as they shifted and moved in sync around the stage; the sound of his own voice through his in-ear piece; the blur of neon green from the fans’ lightsticks in the crowd. 

He could hear his breath catching after his lines, as rare as they came. He inhaled and executed a move, exhaled and gazed down the bulbous black lens of a camera, staring at it as he’d practiced, lifting his lip and baring his teeth in a snarl of a grin. 

They danced and sang and Taeyong and Ten pitched in a self composed rap and Donghyuck’s nerves were alight. His every step was the result of hours and hours in the practice room, hours of sweating it out with the four other guys on stage. 

Hours of work for three minutes on camera, three minutes of deafening screams muted by their in-ears. And then, it was over. The song drew to a close, and they fell into their ending poses. Donghyuck arched his neck and lowered his chin and stared right into the camera. 

For the first time in as long as Donghyuck could remember, as the song drew to its close, the cameraman moved in on him. He closed in as the last notes dwindled in the air and the screams broke through their in-ears. Donghyuck was the last member captured, and then the camera’s red recording light went dark. 

 

Taeyong stepped aside to let Donghyuck move in so that he could see the monitoring screens after their performance. They waited together for a moment in a silence that was only disturbed by their deep, catching breaths. Doyoung had his shirt collar loosened. Jaehyun’s hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. The performance playback began and they watched, intent. 

Donghyuck paid special attention to his body line, the extension and contraction of his movements, how well he’d synced his dance to the beat of the song. He watched his face, his expression. At the end, as the camera drew in close on him, he couldn’t help but think that, though he had room to improve and though he still had a long way to go to reach the intensity he knew he could have, he still looked…

“Shit, Haech,” Ten whistled, “When’d you grow up?”

Donghyuck glanced to him, unable to keep the smile from rising to his lips. He’d worked hard for that. It was just… nice to hear someone else had noticed.

“Sexy, right?” he grinned. 

Jaehyun chuckled, low, and Ten’s eyes lit up in amusement, “Oh. I see how it is.”

Taeyong even cracked a smile, though his gaze was still on the monitoring screen and his brows were still drawn together. Doyoung looked from the screen to Donghyuck, the expression on his face calculating. Donghyuck’s smile felt weaker. He looked from Doyoung back to Ten, before it could drop off his face entirely.

“Can’t believe you switched your whole thing up based on one throwaway comment,” Ten snorted, as they started from the monitoring screens back towards the dressing room.

“You’re an inspiration,” Donghyuck returned, dry. He was gratified at the bout of laughter it provoked from Ten. 

He was glad when Jaehyun came up to them and asked about the food they’d been provided backstage, changing the subject, saving Donghyuck from having to lie about the real source of his inspiration. 

Somehow, he didn’t think Ten would laugh as hard if he knew that the company was the one telling Donghyuck to show this new side of himself.

 

– 

 

Within an hour of the special stage airing, Johnny was already getting news of first time patrons interested in buying a night with Haechan. 

Donghyuck and the group sat in a little hole in the wall fast food restaurant, the kind where the tables were darkened with grime that would never fully wash off, the plates and utensils were disposable. Faded, curling, paper advertisements on the walls left it clear that the restaurant’s heyday had came and went in the first decades of the millennium. 

Now the restaurant was far past its prime and underpopulated, and the group could bank on not being spotted or overheard. The old man working the till and the back with liver spots on his head and glasses as thick as a phone screen was the sole other occupant in the restaurant.

Still, Johnny waited until Donghyuck had risen to go ask for a refill on his soda to alert him of the stage’s impact. He followed him and, as they waited for the old man to refill the glass, Johnny told him in a low voice, so that not even the other group members could overhear.

Donghyuck nodded, grateful that his back was to the table where the members and the other managers sat. He wasn’t sure what his face was doing, couldn’t control it well as Johnny told him that he’d had no less than four first time patrons contact the company asking for him, all saying the same thing, of course. All saying they were big fans of Haechan, and that no price was too high to pay to meet him in such a situation. 

“Anyone we know?” Donghyuck asked, knowing Johnny would get what he meant, not feeling particularly hopeful as to his answer.

The old man shuffled over, hunched over, and handed Donghyuck his glass. Donghyuck smiled at him, feeling a twinge for him, all alone in the grimy restaurant, doing it all by himself. He wondered if the old man had a family, where they were, whether they’d just left him here, or whether he’d asked them to move on. 

“Thank you,” Donghyuck thanked him. The old man didn’t smile back, only took his seat again at the cash register with a sigh, and looked back down to read on his device.

Johnny made a small sound that sounded like a muted snort. Donghyuck shot him a look, wondering if he was laughing at the old man, or at Donghyuck’s failed attempt to connect. Johnny just shook his head, refusing to be cowed by Donghyuck’s look. 

“Yeah, no,” he said, “No Mark Lee. Not yet.”

“Ah.” 

Donghyuck had known, and he hadn’t hoped, but his gut still twisted. He couldn’t bank on Mark being his sole solution, he told himself. He couldn’t hold out for Mark Lee.

 

– 

 

Johnny was grinning though, when the car swung around to the dorms the next morning to pick Donghyuck up for his scheduled hair appointment. Donghyuck froze in his tracks when he saw the smile on Johnny’s face, half in the car, half out. Johnny was _grinning_ , with teeth, his eyes crinkled up.

“Uh,” Donghyuck started, still sleep addled, still not quite up to speed, “Are you alright? Is everything… alright?”

“Get in the car,” Johnny directed, and Donghyuck was even more discomfited to hear the laughter held back in his voice.

“Listen to this,” Johnny said, as the doors slid closed behind Donghyuck. He set his phone down on the seat by Donghyuck.

_“Hello,”_ a prim, unfamiliar male voice started, _“I’m calling on behalf of my employer, Mark Lee.”_

Donghyuck’s heart skipped a beat. He looked up at Johnny. The smile that, to that moment, remained on his face was beginning to make sense. He glanced back down at the phone, the playback of the audio. He gazed intently at the jumping peaks and valleys of the stranger’s visualized voice as if the lines held the secrets to the universe. 

_“...Three weeks ago he purchased an exclusive one-on-one VIP access meeting with one of your idols,”_ the sound of fingers clacking on a keyboard, _“Haechan, I believe? From NCT. Mister Lee would be interested purchasing another meeting…”_

The voice trailed off. Donghyuck wondered if that was the end of the recording, then realized he could just make out the sound of another voice on the other line. It was faint, barely audible, but familiar. If he strained, he could make out the intonation but not the words… his heart skipped a beat, again. Mark Lee. It was Mark’s voice.

The stranger on the phone laughed, suddenly. Donghyuck wanted to rewind the recording to catch what Mark had said, to make the stranger laugh like that. Had it been funny? Did Mark often say funny things?

When the stranger began talking again, though it was immediately clear.

_“Right, yes. He’d like the meeting to be as soon as possible too. He’s_ very _insistent on that.”_

Just then, Donghyuck could finally make out Mark’s voice clear enough on the other line, as he interjected the stranger’s words with an, _“Wait. Hold on a second, Hendery. That’s not what I – .”_

_“You meant it, though. I could see it in your eyes.”_

_“I should fire you...”_

_“Yes, but you won’t!”_

That seemed to stem their disagreement. The stranger then closed up the call, rounding out the details that the company would need to coordinate the meeting. As he clicked off, Donghyuck found himself huffing a laugh too, in disbelief. The stranger had said he worked with Mark, but they were joking around together like friends.

“What was that?” Donghyuck asked, “That was ridiculous. He lets his employees treat him like that? But he actually... I mean… I’m surprised he reached out to us.” 

Donghyuck, upon becoming aware that he was just thinking aloud, stopped himself as soon as he realized it. He looked up from the phone to find that Johnny was looking at him, his smile gone smaller, his brows low, considering.

“What?” Donghyuck repeated, before realizing that his cheeks felt strange. 

He lifted his hand to them, and discovered why. He was smiling, still. He’d been smiling the whole course of the recording. Donghyuck’s lips twisted, in a moment. He frowned and, as he did, Johnny’s expression cleared. He looked away, back down to his phone. He picked it up. The moment passed and, with it, Donghyuck felt easier. 

His fingers twitched on the car seat by him. He brought them into his lap and knitted his hands together, as the silent moment stretched long.

“You’ll be meeting with him tomorrow,” Johnny said, his voice even, betraying nothing.

Donghyuck was beginning to fear his heart was developing a condition, from the way it thumped in his chest at Johnny’s words. He remembered something then, though, and his frown deepened.

“I was supposed to meet up with Park Minjun tomorrow.”

“Yes. I asked the company to reschedule that. He was understanding.” 

A pause. Johnny looked up. 

“That’s fine with you, isn’t it?”

Donghyuck couldn’t shake the feeling that Johnny already knew how fine it was with him. Still, he shrugged, and kept his face neutral as he said, “Yeah. It’s fine with me.”

Tomorrow, he thought, looking out the window. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes he’d made last time with Mark Lee. He was determined that the meeting would go perfectly. He just needed to figure out how.

 

–

 

There were a lot of things that ought to have been going through Donghyuck’s head as he sat in the idling car in the hotel backlot the next day. He ought to have been thinking of Mark Lee’s type, so that he could emulate it best (Mark Lee didn’t have a type. He didn’t date.). He might have thought of his own personal experience, what had worked best with men like Mark before. Maybe he could have even used to time to practice vocal exercises.

Instead, he couldn’t help but second and triple and quadruple guess his outfit.

“It’d be so much easier if he had a favorite look,” Donghyuck sighed, picking at the jeans he was wearing. 

He’d chosen what to wear that day. Johnny had told him it was alright. He’d gone for a black shirt and black jeans – a blank slate, in his mind. But now that he was stuck in them, now that he couldn’t change, he regretted the decision.

“A favorite era, even,” Donghyuck continued. 

He wished he’d picked up something loud, distracting. He felt so bare in just a shirt and jeans. He hadn’t even asked for his hair to be styled. There were remnants of hairspray from an interview earlier that day that kept it looking mussed, but that was all.

Johnny hummed. He seemed preoccupied. Seeing that he’d be getting no comfort from the other occupant in the car, Donghyuck made a soft sound of frustration. It was directed more at himself and his useless worrying than anyone else, though.

“Never mind,” he said. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, exhaled low, running his hands down his thighs, going on autopilot. When he opened his eyes, he forced himself to move. He slipped from the car, gave Johnny a two finger wave, and started towards the hotel.

 

 The problem with Mark Lee, Donghyuck thought, was what he didn’t know. He didn’t know how the idol meetings worked. He didn’t know how to act, how much to spend, how much to expect. He didn’t know Haechan. He didn’t know Haechan’s jokes, his quirks, his actions. He had no standard, no barometer for measuring Donghyuck’s performance.

Donghyuck paused outside the hotel door. Mark had bought the same suite that he’d bought last time, the first time. The lavish one, with the seating area. Donghyuck wondered if they’d be doing that again today – talking, for hours. He wondered what he would say, what he _could_ say. Mark wouldn’t be asking any questions with anticipated answers already in mind, would he? Donghyuck was at a loss. He didn’t know how to treat a patron who wasn’t a fan.

“Shit,” he exhaled, his hand outstretched towards the door. He shook it out, wiping his palm off on his jeans.

He straightened, sucking in a breath of air. He knocked on the door, and drew his hand back. He then let a small smile spread across his face. Shy, but not naive – Haechan’s smile. 

The door opened, and Donghyuck didn’t let the smile falter, even as his heart thumped at the sight of Mark Lee’s (plain, boring) face.

“Hi, Mark,” he greeted, “I was hoping I’d get to see you again.”

 

Mark was wearing gray slacks and a button down with a skinny tie. Donghyuck would have felt a lot better, significantly better, if Mark Lee was wearing anything but a button down and a tie. He told himself that, anyways. There was a jacket hung over the back of one of the chairs in the seating area but, other than that, Mark looked almost indistinguishable from the picture Donghyuck had seen of him when he’d searched his name.

His hair was pushed back from his face, several loosed strands falling out over his furrowed brow. Donghyuck traced the line of them, wondering if Mark had just come from work, if the outfit was how he had to dress in the office.

It was quiet, stiflingly awkward, but Mark was pouring himself a glass of some amber spirit from the hotel’s liquor cabinet, and Donghyuck gave himself time to stare. No. Assess. He was assessing, sizing Mark up, trying to figure him out. 

Mark looked up, catching Donghyuck’s eye from across the room. Donghyuck was in the seating area, he’d gone right towards it after hesitating for a moment at the bed. But the seats were pointed away from the liquor cabinet and counter areas. He had no good reason to be facing Mark’s way. He didn’t look away the moment Mark caught his eye, though. That would be more incriminating than playing the moment off. He could use the moment to alleviate some of the odd tension between them.

Donghyuck settled his chin in his hand, smiling loose and easy.

“You spend any longer over there, I’ll be tempted to think you’re trying to avoid me.”

For once, Mark acted as expected. He paused, then laughed, light, setting the bottle of liquor down.

“Right. Hurrying up,” he hesitated, then lifted up his glass, “You want any, by the way?”

Donghyuck shook his head, sweetly, “No thanks. Bring me a water, though, will you?”

He didn’t like drinking anything too strong when he was with patrons. He didn’t like any lines to be blurred, and he didn’t like losing any modicum of control. Drinking would have invited both of those. A few sips of wine or champagne or soju were permissible but he wouldn’t allow himself anything more.

Mark came over, bringing a glass of water for Donghyuck. He settled down in the other seat, a highbacked cushioned chair with a subtle off white fleur-de-lis print that matched Donghyuck’s own. 

Mark sat with his legs spread. He reclined back, his eyes on Donghyuck over his glass. His gaze was cautious, but not suspecting. Donghyuck could work with that, he thought. Donghyuck listed towards him, hooking one foot behind his ankle.

“So,” he began, bright, “Why’d you buy another meeting with me, Mark Lee?”

Donghyuck had asked to loosen Mark up primarily. He seemed so stiff, uneasy. But if he was being honest with himself, he burned with curiosity to know. He’d been wondering since he’d heard the recording of Mark and his secretary. 

Mark didn’t answer for a moment. He didn’t move at all, the rim of his glass still pressed to his lips. Finally, he lowered it, resting his wrist against one of his knees.

“I actually wasn’t planning on it, at first,” he said.

Donghyuck nodded, understanding that.

“I thought I scared you off after that first one, if I’m being honest,” he said, then, shifting, “What made you change your mind?”

Donghyuck realized, as Mark pressed his lips together, as he seemed to pause to fully consider the question, that he didn’t have to feign curiosity. He wasn’t forcing the questions that came up. They were ones he’d already been mulling over for a day at least.

“I think… I’ve thought about you more than I should have, over the past few weeks,” Mark didn’t even seem to notice that a small smile was spreading across his lips. He spoke absently, “That’s weird, right? It felt weird to me. I don’t even really know you... and then you sent that video thanking me, and I realized why.”

Mark spoke with such ease, as though he was just letting words flow from his mind as soon as they occurred, without withholding anything. For Donghyuck, it was incomprehensible.

“Oh?” he prompted.

Mark nodded, his eyes wide and clear and earnest.

“I don’t get it. I don’t get – this,” Mark gestured with his free hand in Donghyuck’s direction. 

Donghyuck felt a ping, a small alarm going off within him, constricting his chest. He tried not to note it, tried not to fall into panic. He kept his features relaxed, neutral, even as his mind started to race, to map out potential ways to explain away what Mark was questioning about him, whatever it was that didn’t make sense to Mark. 

He had a nonsensical thought – that Mark wouldn’t find him. No, that wasn’t what he’d meant to think: that Mark wouldn’t find him out. Then, Mark shifted. He leaned forward, bringing his thoughtful expression closer into view.

“But I’d like to try to understand it, I think.”

“Understand…?” Donghyuck repeated, vague, all the while his mind blaring no no _no_.

“The whole – idol thing, you know? Like… what’s the point?” Mark sighed, falling back against the chair. In an instant, like the breaking of a crashing wave, Donghyuck felt relief wash over him. Mark wasn’t questioning him, not exactly, not him in particular. 

Donghyuck’s smile came easily, relieved as he was.

“Spending a fortune just to get a few questions answered… I admire your dedication to understanding, I guess.”

Mark laughed, light and easy. The sound of it somehow soothed the remainder of Donghyuck’s staticky nerves.

“Are you telling me I shouldn’t have? Let me know now so I can call your company up for a refund before it’s too late.”

Donghyuck laughed at Mark’s joke, careful to keep it light, attractive. 

“ _That_ won’t be necessary.” 

He levelled his gaze back down at Mark, letting his smile soften into one he knew would look warmer, softer, more intimate, “I’m the best teacher you could possibly find.”

“Really?” Mark’s smile went softer, mirroring Donghyuck’s own. 

But when he smiled, Donghyuck noticed that his eyes seemed different. Shinier. Donghyuck felt a surge of something he couldn’t help but place as joy at finally successfully getting Mark to flirt back, to play into his intended role.

 “Really. I can show you why someone would want to be a patron,” Donghyuck angled closer towards Mark, noting the way Mark’s gaze flicked over him, feeling gratified in it, “I promise.”

 

Donghyuck left the hotel room hours later with the distinct feeling that one gets when they misjudge the amount of steps on a staircase and miss the last one – that bottomed out stomach feeling where something’s gone amiss. He should have felt good. He was on track to making Mark Lee a regular patron and, aside from a few quickly smoothed over mistakes, the meeting had gone just as well as he could have expected.

Mark still subtly shied away from Donghyuck’s attempts to initiate something physical and he wondered at that, but he knew he’d crack Mark in time. He was already getting him to flirt back at least. But something felt off. 

He couldn’t place it, even when he drew into the car with Johnny and Johnny prompted him with a, “Well?”

“It was nice,” Donghyuck frowned, turning from Johnny, looking at his appearance in the window. He wondered if he should replicate this particular outfit and styling for his and Mark’s next meeting. Maybe this could be how Mark Lee’s Haechan looked.

“It was… what?”

Donghyuck’s shoulders hiked up. He didn’t know why it had come out like that. That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say.

“It went well, I mean.”

“Okay… do you think he’ll purchase another package?” Johnny asked, as he always did with anyone who wasn’t a regular.

Donghyuck nodded, distracted. 

“That’s good,” Johnny’s reply felt far away, muted. 

Donghyuck didn’t bother responding. The car pulled out from the hotel lot, and Donghyuck looked beyond his reflection, directing his gaze high up at all the hotel windows. He glanced over the ones that were darkened, the empty rooms. He looked beyond them, at the rooms that were all lit up, glowing with artificially warm lights, the figures silhouetted as they moved across them. 

Donghyuck wondered where Mark Lee was, at that moment. Was he going home to an empty house, a giant apartment just for him? Or did he have someone waiting for him? Some patrons did, but Donghyuck, somehow, couldn’t see him as the type.  

His mind spun images of Mark walking into his dark apartment, toeing off his nice black dress shoes, slipping off his coat. He bit down on the image before it strayed too far, shaking his head, turning his mind towards the schedules the next day held, and the patrons he had next that weren’t Mark Lee. 

 

It was only as Donghyuck’s head hit the pillow that he realized what was wrong, what felt so jarring and _off_ about the meeting that evening. It had been too easy. Donghyuck swallowed, hard. He debated rising from bed to get himself a glass of water, to wash down the bitter taste that had suddenly risen to his mouth.

Donghyuck hadn’t struggled nearly enough that evening, calculating, weighing different options and reactions. He hadn’t thought enough before speaking and acting. He knew it, in an instant. That’s what had felt so _wrong_. He wasn’t comforted by the thought. It left him replaying the events in his head, all that had transpired, searching for instances where he’d messed up. Because that’s what easy meant. It meant natural. It meant the potential for letting something show through, and for Mark seeing it.

The thought was paralyzing. 

Donghyuck lay in bed, Jaehyun’s soft snoring on the other side of the dorm reminding him not to get lost in a spiral of panicking thoughts. As much as Donghyuck was tempted to text Johnny at that moment to ask if he could make sure Mark never got another meeting with him again, he had to quell the desire. Overreacting would get him nowhere. It would make him lose a potential regular patron in Mark. It would make him lose Mark’s money, and the success that came with it.

Donghyuck exhaled, and closed his eyes.

He would just have to try harder the next time. He couldn’t let himself slip up. He couldn’t let Haechan crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mark: so, i got the weirdest message from that idol guy i saw a couple weeks ago...  
> hendery: say no more. i'll get you another date with him.  
> mark: wait. hendery, no - !


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donghyuck has another couple meetings and the company reveals their plans for the group's next comeback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning// there's implied sexual content between donghyuck and a male oc in this chapter. it isn't explicit by any means and it's consensual, but it leaves donghyuck feeling down.

Donghyuck’s day hadn’t begun great. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and the makeup artist berated him for it. She layered concealer on the dark circles beneath his eyes and he silently let her. 

They were shooting an advertisement and the shoot continued Donghyuck’s unsettled feeling from the evening prior. He had no way of knowing if the company had somehow gotten to the director of the shoot, or how they could have done it, if they had. Things had changed, though. They’d shifted in a way he couldn’t quite place from their last ad shoot of the sort, months ago. 

“Haechan, come closer.” 

The director ushered him nearer the camera, nearer, nearer, until he was in front of all the other members. Even Taeyong was at his back.

The director went on to explain that they were going to get a take of him drinking the product – a new sparkling water in an eco-friendly bottle – while the other members pretended to be engaged in the background. Donghyuck nodded dutifully as the director explained how he was to drink it, how to display the label properly, how he was supposed to look into the camera, and when. 

His mind was elsewhere, thinking back to the last time he’d been the center for even one take for one of these shoots. It had to have happened before, but he couldn’t recall. His paranoia about the company’s reach ratcheted up when the director at last told him the expression he was to have on his face for the take – sexy, in more roundabout words. 

“Does that make sense? Can you do that?” the director asked. 

He looked haggard, worn thin. He’d missed a spot shaving that morning, a patch of hair dark on his upper lip. It didn’t look as though he was invested at all in Donghyuck’s answer, and Donghyuck had no doubt that it hadn’t been his idea.

“Absolutely,” he answered, “I know just what you mean.”

Donghyuck stepped back to his mark and waited for the director’s cue. With all the time he’d spent practicing his expression in front of a mirror in mind, he raised the bottle high. He arched his neck and parted his lips and looked at the camera as if he was on stage, performing. 

The director made them film several more takes for insurance but, starting from his shout of ‘And - cut!’ on the first one, he had a new glimmer setting alight his tired gaze.

“You’re a natural, Haechan.”

 

Donghyuck didn’t know if he was imagining it but their practice that day felt awkward, laden with tension. They weren’t learning any new choreo or even new stretches. They weren’t engaged enough to be distracted from each other, and Donghyuck regretted that. Donghyuck’s gaze skated from Doyoung and Taeyong when they glanced his way in the ceiling to floor mirrors which lined the practice room walls. 

He didn’t know what would be waiting for him in their eyes when they made eye contact with him, but he wasn’t eager to find out. He feared the worst – jealousy. He feared them confronting him after practice, when he wouldn’t be able to avoid them so easily. The confrontation never came though. They all went their separate ways after practice. 

As Donghyuck sped towards the door, grateful for an excuse to escape the room, Taeyong spoke out. 

“Wait. Haechan – “

“What?” 

Donghyuck held his breath. He turned, but he cast his gaze down. A pregnant pause. It seemed even the rest of the members were staying still, quiet.

“How are you?” Taeyong asked, with no small amount of awkwardness. 

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck glanced up, making eye contact, determined to convey to Taeyong that that was the truth.

Taeyong looked uncertain, disbelieving. Doyoung was behind him, his gaze more than skeptical. Jaehyun was busying himself with his bag in a far corner, and Ten was on his phone supposedly, though his fingers weren’t even moving across the screen. Dongyuck felt his heart clench. He wondered if they’d planned this among themselves, choosing the perfect time to corner him. It wasn’t rare for them to all discuss together, to hang out without him. They’d have ample opportunity – 

“Okay,” Taeyong said, after a moment, “Just… if you ever want to talk to someone, we’d probably understand whatever it is you’re going through right now. I – I would understand.”

Donghyuck felt for Taeyong. He didn’t seem jealous. His brows were knitted together in concern, not envy. But coming off a shoot where, for once, Donghyuck had been in front, where for once Donghyuck, and not him, had been the face of the group, the timing left Donghyuck doubting the depth of his sincerity.

“Thanks,” Donghyuck let a smile spread across his face. He didn’t bother making it look realistic, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And, because that was the way the day was already going, the tension somehow felt even worse after he’d spoken. It felt cloying, claustrophobic. Donghyuck all but fled from the room. He allowed himself to stalk away, before the feeling snapped and left them all for the worse. He didn’t think it would be pretty, if they did have to talk about Donghyuck’s recent success, and what it meant for the rest of them.

 

Johnny was always quiet, but he felt notably so on the ride to the hotel where Donghyuck was supposed to meet with Park Minjun, the patron who’d been rescheduled so he could see Mark earlier. Donghyuck was grateful for Johnny’s silence. He needed time to collect himself. Minjun was one of the hardest sorts of patrons to please. He was one of them who always asked for the most. 

Donghyuck closed his eyes, exhaling. He wouldn’t let Minjun ask for too much, though. Whatever came his way, he could charm his way through it.

“I’ll see you in three hours,” Johnny said, too soon, far too soon. It felt like the blink of an eye from when Donghyuck had stepped in the car to their arrival at the hotel.

“Yeah, see ya,” Donghyuck nodded. He hesitated, half out of the car, glanced back, “Wish me luck.”

Johnny’s lip corner quirked up. He locked eyes with Donghyuck, “You don’t need luck. You’ve got this, Haechan.”

Donghyuck found himself laughing – a short, surprised exhalation of air. It only lasted him as long as the hotel elevator, and then the constricted feeling around his chest returned. He punched in the floor where Minjun’s room was located, then stepped back. 

He stared at his blurred over reflection in the elevator’s warm, reflective doors. Minjun liked the looks from a couple years ago. Two years before, the company made their first foray into making Donghyuck stand out from his members with darker eyeliner and edgier stylings. They’d even put him in colored contacts. 

Donghyuck generally didn’t opt for the contacts when meeting with patrons. They made his eyes ache, and always left them red and irritated when he finally took them off at the end of the night. They were an uncomfortable reminder of the outfit he was wearing – more of a costume than clothes he’d ever choose to wear, if he had a choice in the matter. He’d asked the stylist to let him wear the contacts that evening, though. 

He could barely make out his eyes in the reflection on the elevator door – but he imagined they looked sharp, foreign, and strange. He associated the grey color with photoshoots and cameras being pushed in his face. With shouts of “Haechan, look here!”, “You’re doing great, Haechan.”, “Give us a little more attitude, won’t you, Haechan?”. 

The elevator made a small sound of alert, letting Donghyuck know that he’d arrived at Minjun’s floor. The elevator doors slid open, cutting away Donghyuck’s strange, warped reflection, revealing an innocuous hotel hallway. In it, he saw the same yellowed, artificially warm lights that he saw in every hotel, each one set in wall sconce above particularly sad-looking potted lilies. 

Donghyuck pushed off from the back of the elevator, and started walking. He inhaled deep and heartening, then turned a corner. He summoned a smile to his face in between steps. 

He didn’t have to look in a mirror to know how good his expression would look, how good he looked as Haechan, then. He could feel it, and he could see it in the way Minjun’s eyes greedily tracked over him when he made it to the room. He could feel it from the way Minjun ushered him in, without hesitation. 

“Look at you,” Minjun’s voice was rasped, low. He wasn’t too old, only in his mid-thirties, but Donghyuck had to try not to react when he spoke and his voice betrayed their difference in years.

“You look… stunning, Haechan.”

“Aw, Minjun,” Donghyuck pressed his lips together to make his smile shy, “You know I couldn’t help but dress up for you.”

Minjun’s arms snaked around Donghyuck’s waist and Donghyuck let himself be pulled close. He kept his expression the same even as Minjun’s breath, heavy with the scent of wine, hit his nostrils. Acting in advertisements shoots was nothing but a warm up, he thought. Patron meetings made any performance that followed seem like a breeze.

 

Three hours later, Donghyuck slipped from the hotel room. He walked in a daze past the elevator, his feet carrying him without much input from his mind. He walked until he reached the stairwell that was hidden away in the farthest corner of the floor, after winding hallways filled with the same paisley patterns and wilting lily plants.

He made it down half a flight of stairs, the stopped. He sunk down. His hand was shaky, his palm slick with sweat on the railing. 

Donghyuck wiped his hand across the back of his mouth, hard. He did it again, harder. He could still feel Minjun’s lips on his. 

He curled over, cradling his head in his hands. Uneven, heavy panting filled the empty stairwell, echoing about the damp, stained concrete above and below him. He knew, in a distant, detached way, that it was his. He knew it. But in his mind it was Minjun’s breath in his ear as Minjun fumbled with belt, as he asked Haechan if he’d missed him, if he’d missed _this._

Donghyuck covered his mouth with his hand, staring unblinking at the cement wall in front of him. He focused on a line of condensation, a gray so dark it was almost black, as it tracked down the wall. What had started as a small drop of water had bisected the wall, splitting it in half. He watched it inch lower, trying to even out his breathing.

He was overreacting, he thought. Minjun hadn’t even been that bad that day. He hadn’t asked for more than he had at any point before. Donghyuck must have just been out of practice with patrons like him. He’d allowed himself to grow complacent, meeting with patrons like his girl fans, who only asked for the perfect boyfriend. Like Mark, who only asked for someone to talk to.

Donghyuck stretched out his other hand, tapping his fingers on his knee in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Johnny would be waiting for him outside. He’d be wondering. He knew the type of patron Minjun was. He knew what he wanted Haechan to do for him. Donghyuck needed to move, he told himself. He needed to hurry or Johnny would … not worry, but. Wonder. He might even think Donghyuck had messed up, that the delay was a cause for concern about Donghyuck’s performance that evening. 

Donghyuck wrenched his eyes from the condensation droplet that, by that point, had nearly reached the bottom of the wall. He stood up, and started to walk once more. He walked all the way down the stairs. His legs were weakened, but he didn’t want to stand still. He wasn’t looking forward to the car ride back to the dorm. Sitting in one place for long, he’d be conscious of all the aches and marks on him. All the signs of Minjun, the traces of their meeting that he’d left behind. 

Donghyuck was silent as he stepped into the car. He waited, and waited, undoubtedly sure that Johnny was doing the same. He was probably trying to be conscientious, trying to wait for him to speak first.

Finally, Johnny broke.

“How was it, Haechan?” he asked, at last, as the city skyline glimmered behind them, as the blues and reds and blurred whites of the cars and subways and office buildings painted a portrait of life, of never ending work and wakefulness.

Donghyuck reached for an answer.

“He was satisfied, I think.”

Johnny didn’t reply immediately. When he did, his voice was different. The tone was altered, compacted somehow.

“Ah.”

Donghyuck didn’t want to look him in the eye. He stared intently out the window, feeling his gaze on him, feeling far too visible.

“Do you think he’ll be purchasing another package with the company?” Johnny asked. Donghyuck nodded, taking a breath in as he did.

“Do you want him to?” Johnny asked, after a beat. Donghyuck’s eyes snapped to him, the question taking him by surprise. Johnny was looking at him, his lips twisted into a frown, a deep crease etched between his drawn brows.

“He’s a regular,” Donghyuck answered, automatically, using words he’d heard from a company suit sometime before, “He’s been a dependable source of support for months.”

Johnny’s expression grew, if possible, more troubled. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

Donghyuck had hoped Johnny would let that slide. He didn’t know why he was pushing him _now_ , why everyone was pushing him now. Taeyong and Doyoung, and Johnny too.

“I don’t care,” Donghyuck said, annoyance injecting life into his tone. He narrowed his eyes at Johnny, “If he wants to see me again, let him. As long as he’s paying well, I don’t care.”

Johnny stared at Donghyuck for a few beats more, and Donghyuck stared back. His palms were heated, sweaty. But he wouldn’t move to wipe them dry on his shorts. He wouldn’t break first. He waited Johnny out until, at last, Johnny folded. He sighed, before breaking eye contact, looking down at his phone.

“Okay. Whatever you say, Haechan,” he sounded disappointed and that only aggravated Donghyuck further. Let Johnny be disappointed in him, for whatever invented reasons he could find. He didn’t care. 

 

– 

 

On the day of Donghyuck’s third meeting with Mark, the company called their group in. 

All five of them piled into a van with their various managers. There was an electric energy in the air as they rode from the dorm to the company. Jaehyun and Donghyuck laughed at the jokes Ten cracked to ease the tension. Donghyuck wondered if Jaehyun was laughing as much out of nerves as he was. 

They were rarely called as a unit to the company. The company generally preferred to get them alone, ensuring not even their managers were in the room with them when they spoke. Going together could mean one of only a few things, in Donghyuck’s estimation. 

A team of three suits were waiting in a meeting room with a long oval table for them. Donghyuck took his seat at the far end by Jaehyun, all the way back. Ten wasn’t cracking jokes anymore. He hadn’t since they’d stepped foot in the brightly lit lobby of the company’s building.

The apparent head suit, in her sleek black dress that contrasted with the dull greys of the outfits of the other suits at her back, began speaking the moment the meeting room door was closed. The members traded glances, and Donghyuck’s anticipation was proved well founded. 

They were given the first details of their next comeback. It was coming soon, in the next quarter. They were treated to a listen-through of the demo of their title song song, a general overview of the concept the design team was working on for the era. Details about promotions, concurrent fanmeets, and expectations followed. 

They were told not to lose sight of their dream, even as their practices would get longer and longer, as their recording sessions would run long. Donghyuck saw Taeyong duck his head, not subtly enough, out of the corner of his eye. They all got the message. They were expected, as always, to keep meeting with patrons. Even as they started preparations for a comeback, they were expected to keep seeing the patrons, charming them, making them believe they were falling in love, and taking their money. 

Taeyong nodded, sharp. He spoke for them as always, their leader, and promised they’d work hard, that they’d make the company proud. The rest of the members, Donghyuck included, assented. The suits smiled. Each and every one of them wore the same close lipped smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. 

“That’s what we like to hear, Taeyong,” the woman suit said, her voice slick as an oil spill, “You’ll have your initial meetings with the producers and choreographers next week. I know you’re all probably eager to get to work, but you can fill the time you’re waiting by taking on extra meetings. Only if you’d like, of course, but the company believes you should have the best comeback you can, and that will only be possible through your patrons’ support.”

Donghyuck’s stomach twisted. He was grateful he was never asked to speak in meetings like these, grateful to be the youngest. He ducked his head as Taeyong cleared his throat and agreed they would try their best. Donghyuck didn’t feel anger for him, or disappointment. It was impossible to look the suits in the face and say no. He was impressed that Taeyong could look them in the face at all.

 

After the meeting drew to a close, the woman suit asked Donghyuck if she could speak with him a moment, alone. Taeyong hesitated at the door, Doyoung with him, frowning as he gazed Donghyuck’s way, but then the woman cleared her throat. She didn’t even look their way. They got the message, though, and left soon after. 

The meeting room was lined with glass walls, looking out onto the open office that took up the rest of the floor. Donghyuck could see his members gathering beyond them, waiting for him, as the woman suit gestured for him to take a seat that was nearer to her. He could feel their eyes as he crossed the room, as he lowered himself into the seat. 

His gut felt as though it’d twisted itself into an unsolvable knot. He wished he could run to the bathroom and splash his face with water before going on. He was starting to feel sick.

“Haechan,” the woman spoke, “the company has taken note of your exceptional performance in your patron meetings these past few weeks. The volume of fans you’ve met – the lives you’ve changed,” she leaned forward, her lacquered nails curling against the glass surface of the table, “Well, it’s impressed us.”

Donghyuck couldn’t take his eyes off from her nails. They were sharpened, filed to a sharp point. They were reflected in the glass, creating ten crimson stakes where she’d rested her hand up against the table.

“Thank you,” he said.

“We’d like to reward you for your hard work.”

Donghyuck’s gaze shot up. He looked at her, trying to figure out if there was a catch, some trick. Her face was illegible. There wasn’t a single tell. Not even from her uniform smile, with her red lips that exactly matched the color of her nails.

“The title song for your next comeback is a track that we believe would go very well with your voice”

Donghyuck couldn’t speak. His throat was constricted, closed up. He just gazed at the woman, hearing her, not quite believing her.

“You’re earning as much as Jaehyun now. Sell a little bit more, and you’ll be a top two earner in your group. We believe it’s time that your songs started reflecting your contributions.”

Donghyuck nodded, unable to trust his voice. More lines. That was what he wanted, that was what he was doing this all for. This was a victory, he told himself. Nearly a victory, anyways. It was within reach. So why didn’t he feel excited? His heart was racing, but it felt more like a warning, like the racing of his heart before he stepped into a hotel room for a meeting. It didn’t feel like joy. It felt foreboding.

“Thank you,” he found himself saying, his lips moving almost without thought, “I appreciate the opportunity. I’ll work harder.”

 

Donghyuck found himself distracted throughout the day, only really starting to experience the full brunt of sensation as the sun set and he ended up in the car with Johnny again, on the way to one of the company’s partnered hotels. Even then, when he started feeling again, it began with trepidation and anxiety.

He was worried for the meeting with Mark. It wasn’t Mark that worried him, exactly. It was his own actions that he couldn’t quite anticipate. He was afraid he’d get too comfortable again, and he wouldn’t be quite so lucky. That he’d slip up.

“You alright?” Johnny asked. 

Donghyuck nodded, “I always am.”

He glanced at Johnny. They still had a good twenty minutes in the ride until they got to the hotel backlot. He wondered if Johnny would pry for the entire length of the drive, or if that would be the end of it.

“Do you know whether Mark made the appointment himself this time?” Donghyuck blurted out. He blinked. He’d been considering asking something to distract Johnny, but he hadn’t planned on it being that.

Johnny pressed his lips together. He looked confused, so Donghyuck barrelled on.

“I mean… the first time he made it himself. The second time he had his secretary do it for him. What happened this time?”

Johnny narrowed his eyes at Donghyuck. Donghyuck had to press his fingertips flat to the car seat to keep them from twitching as Johnny looked his way.

“I don’t have a recording of the call,” Johnny said, after a moment, “If that’s what you’re asking.”

Donghyuck exhaled, sharp.

“I wasn’t asking for that. I don’t care about that.” 

“It was his secretary again, though,” Johnny continued, as if Donghyuck’s feeble protest hadn’t happened at all. 

Donghyuck looked down at his knees. He felt… not disappointed. But amiss, somehow, knowing that Hendery had been the one to make the call again. Mark had told him some about his secretary, in all the time they’d spent in conversation during their two meetings so far. 

He seemed like a nice guy, and Mark seemed to smile without thinking about it when he shared stories of Hendery’s latest fire-able offense, but Donghyuck thought he would have preferred it, in a way, if Mark had made the meeting himself.

 

Once again, Donghyuck paused before the door to Mark’s hotel room. He hadn’t planned on it, but the sight of the door made him draw up short. He sighed at himself, but he pulled up his phone and glanced at himself in the reflection of the screen.

He’d gone with nearly the same outfit as last time – dark shirt, dark skinny jeans. His hair was mussed as well. He flicked a stubborn strand so that it was angled the opposite way, then moved it back to its original spot. He dropped his hand, and his phone with it, well aware that he was procrastinating. 

He had no reason to procrastinate, though. Mark Lee was awkward, and plain, and Haechan could handle him, just as he’d handled Minjun. Donghyuck repeated that like a mantra, as he rapped on the hotel door.

Mark opened it up, moments later, a smile spread wide across his face.

“Haechan! Hey, come on in, I brought something special today,” he said, his voice warm and excited. Donghyuck’s heart lurched forward in his chest. It took him longer than he would have liked to smile back.

“For me?” Mark wouldn’t be able to tell his voice was shaking, just a little, just a bit, but Donghyuck detected it, “You shouldn’t have.”

 

Donghyuck’s patrons often brought him gifts. Designer clothes, expensive accessories, intricate floral arrangements, century old soju… Donghyuck had gotten them all before, and he hadn’t been able to keep any of them. 

His patrons probably wished to see him carrying their gifts in press photos and fansite pictures, but it would never happen. He handed every gift he’d ever been given to Johnny at the end of the night. If the company found out he’d kept anything he’d been given, Donghyuck wasn’t sure what would happen. He only knew that it was discouraged, and that he wasn’t eager to find out.

He hadn’t been fully teasing when he’d told Mark he shouldn’t have gotten him anything. But, upon finding out what Mark’s gift was, Donghyuck couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sweets?” 

A box of assorted pastries, the name of some cafe printed in calligraphy on the front of the box, partially obscured by a black bow.

“They’re really good,” Mark said, leaning forward, nudging the box closer towards Donghyuck, “I always get Hendery to bring some to the office on Mondays. Mondays suck but macarons make them better.”

Donghyuck’s stomach felt unsettled. He wondered if eating would help him feel better, or if he could just wait and the sensation would pass. He wondered if the company would care in this case, if the gift he accepted was something as small as sweets. He laughed once more, to buy himself time. 

“And you said you didn’t know how being a patron worked,” Donghyuck smiled sweetly as he listed back against the chair, leaving the box untouched. Mark’s smile faltered.

“What?”

“The gift. Bringing a gift – that’s patronage essentials right there,” Donghyuck was relying on his charm to get him through the moment. The moment Mark’s smile had faltered, his stomach had dropped. He wondered if he’d eaten something wrong earlier in the day.

“Oh… I guess I still have a lot to learn.” 

Donghyuck took in his words, the downward curve of his lips. He thought, for a moment, then chanced upon an idea. He saw an opportunity, and took it.

“Maybe, but that’s why you have me, right?”

Mark hesitated for a moment, then nodded. 

Donghyuck smiled a smaller smile, one without teeth. He leaned forward and touched the tips of his fingers to Mark’s knee. It was a light contact. He hardly applied any pressure, but Mark’s gaze snapped down to Donghyuck’s hand as if his touch had burned.

He wasn’t moving away, Donghyuck thought. He felt a breath captured in his mouth, so caught up in the action he’d taken that he’d forgotten to breathe as normal.

“Mark… you said you didn’t get this. I’ll try to explain,” his voice, at least, came out strong. Even. He was talking about something he understood well. These were facts he knew, when he was unsure of everything else, “When patrons support us, they’re always looking for one thing from us. They don’t tell you when you make a meeting, all that’s available to you. But everyone knows.”

Mark slowly raised his eyes from Donghyuck’s hand. He was still frowning, confusion etched across his features. Donghyuck’s heart – his stupid, nonsense heart – was beating quick, pounding in his ears. Donghyuck curled the hand that wasn’t outstretched into a fist at his side where Mark wouldn’t see, and wasn’t surprised to find it damp, wet with sweat.

“That’s why you asked me if I wanted to – do that to you,” Mark said. His solemn, serious voice was such a contrast with his inability to mention anything lewd that Donghyuck couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh. 

He’d never had a male patron who’d played this shy with him before, but there was a first for everything. Donghyuck knew what his meetings would Mark would come to, what the inevitable conclusion of all the flirting and gifts would be. Some way or another, he’d end up in the hotel bed, either spewing fake love confessions or fake moans. It didn’t matter to him. The priority, as always, was keeping the patron coming back, paying more. Supporting Donghyuck.

Donghyuck slid his hand down, slow, until it wasn’t just his fingertips in glancing contact with the fabric of Mark’s suit pants. Mark glanced down, then back up, eyes widening, as Donghyuck curled his hand over Mark’s thigh.

“I asked if you wanted to fuck me.”

Mark’s lips parted, a sliver of black between them. Donghyuck’s heart was hammering against his ribcage. 

“It’s not a bad thing to want,” he kept his voice light, sensing Mark’s hesitation, “I’m offering, after all. And I still think we could have a lot of fun together. Don’t you?”

Donghyuck’s question settled between them, thick like the air on a foggy morning, weighted, oppressive. Mark’s eyes flicked across his features, quick, assessing. Donghyuck tried not to twitch or to shy away. He kept his gaze clear, his smile small.

Mark made a soft sound in the back of his throat. It didn’t necessarily mean a thing, but Donghyuck felt his stomach drop. He watched, helpless, as Mark leaned back, listing away from him. His back hit the chair behind him in his effort to make space between them. Mark lifted his leg, crossing it over the other and knocking Donghyuck’s hand from it in the process.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Mark had a way of saying unbelievable that made it sound like a censure. 

Donghyuck remembered himself, at last, and drew his outstretched hand back into his lap. He stared at Mark, feeling like he’d missed something big, something important. Feeling frustrated with Mark for pulling away, and with himself for messing up _again_ – for getting Mark wrong for the umpteenth time.

“I’ve heard it before, yes,” Donghyuck tried, his smile slow to take. 

Everything he did, every action he took – it was all calculated to feel real. To make the patron believe he felt the same as they did. It was the worst thing, humiliating, to be called unbelievable.

Mark’s gaze shifted, softened. He scrubbed his hand over his mouth then looked down, sighed. A long moment, awkward, stifling, passed. 

“I’m really sorry,” Mark said, his eyes still low, not looking at Donghyuck, “but I just remembered that I have a lot of work to get through before tomorrow. I think I’ll have to cut this short.”

_What?_

“What?” Donghyuck blurted out. 

Donghyuck blinked at himself. He never did that. He never so much as breathed without thinking through it first. Mark didn’t seem to notice his misstep. He sighed once more and rose from his chair. He lifted his suit jacket from the chair back. 

“I’ll still pay the company for the full three hours, so don’t worry about that.”

Donghyuck wasn’t worried about that. Once again, he was stopped by his own thoughts. No, that’s what he should be concerned about. That’s what he _was_ concerned about, he thought, in the next moment wondering what was going on with him, what was going so desperately wrong.

Mark already had his jacket on. He was already walking away, nearing the door. Donghyuck’s heart lurched. He stood up from the chair, without thinking.

“Wait – .”

When Mark did stop and turn back, Donghyuck froze. He hadn’t planned what to say beyond that. He grasped for something, anything. In a situation like this, how would Mark want Haechan to act?

“I’m sorry,” he started, shocked at the tremor in his own voice, “If I offended you in any way, I apologize. I won’t… I won’t do that again.”

Mark frowned. For the first time, Donghyuck realized that he struck a bit of an image in his pressed suit, his hair styled back aside from the stubborn few errant strands that always seemed to slip out from the hold of whatever styling products he used. Donghyuck felt at a loss, for once, staring at him.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Donghyuck could tell the moment Mark softened, gave in. His shoulders sagged.

“You really don’t need to do that. Seriously, don’t worry about this. It’s just... bad timing. I’ll get Hendery to schedule another meeting for us soon,” Mark lifted his arm, crooking it, glancing at the gleaming silver watch on his wrist, “There’s still two and a half hours left until your company expects you to be done here, right?”

Donghyuck nodded, numb. He felt such relief at hearing that Mark wasn’t through with him – that he’d be coming back, he was barely listening to the rest.

Mark’s expression shifted. A smile reappeared on his face, an awkward, uncertain one that Donghyuck was beginning to recognize.

“Maybe consider putting this room to good use and catching a couple hours of sleep in the meantime?”

Donghyuck stared at Mark in disbelief. He’d somehow ended up paying a fortune for a meeting and a hotel room just so Donghyuck could nap. 

Mark seemed to misinterpret his look. His smile went sheepish. 

“Just a suggestion. You look a little… anyways. I’ll see you soon, Haechan. Thanks for the lesson today.”

Donghyuck could only give him a faint ‘you’re welcome’, and a matching goodbye. He watched Mark Lee go, wondering if he’d ever start making sense. 

For lack of anything better to do, Donghyuck did as Mark had suggested, and threw open the bedcovers and slipped under them. He set an alarm on his phone for fifteen minutes before the meeting was supposed to end, and then turned over, and stared at the ceiling of the hotel room.

It was the same as any other hotel room ceiling, he thought, because it was easier than thinking about just how massively he’d messed up, only to have it seemingly smoothed over in an instant. In every hotel, in every room, in every bed where Donghyuck had laid back and looked up, it had all looked like this. 

He glanced to the side, at the door that Mark had walked through minutes prior. He was alone now, though. That was new. Even when he was in his room at the dorm, Jaehyun was usually just across the room, in his bed. He’d never felt so – unwatched. He couldn’t quite work out if he liked it. Donghyuck frowned at the door. His consciousness was wisping away, his exhaustion finally catching up to him, but as he slipped, his thoughts drifted to Mark.

The cycle of emotions Mark had sent him through in such a short time, the dizzying switch from panic of rejection to relief at the assurance that Mark would remain his patron. Donghyuck found him frustrating, confusing. 

As his control loosed, as sleep took hold, an errant thought slipped in: that maybe Mark’s kindness wasn’t all an act. No, Donghyuck protested, sleepy but insistent. Nothing was ever as it seemed. Not even someone like Mark Lee.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donghyuck devises a new method to charm mark. it involves a little rule breaking, but nothing donghyuck can't justify.

The song that was intended to be their title track for their comeback was vocal heavy, the demo track full of lasting, belted notes. Their listen throughs were always focused and subdued, but the song was such a departure from their usual sound that none of them uttered any sort of reaction at first. 

It was synth heavy pop, haunting. Where most of their music was loud and exciting, this track crept in, a slow build that mounted higher and higher, and left Donghyuck in danger of forgetting all around him, blanketed in the sound that seemed to echo like words spoken in the base of a canyon.  

As the first high note was hit, Donghyuck looked up from the tablet in his hands that displayed the lyrics. He glanced to Doyoung. Doyoung had a frown on his face as he gazed down at his own tablet. He must have felt Donghyuck’s eyes on him because he looked up only a moment later. 

Donghyuck felt something tense, unnameable settle in the air as Doyoung’s gaze met his own. If it was a vocal heavy song with high notes, those high notes could have only been meant for the two of them. None of the rest of the members had the range to comfortably sing what seemed, at first glance, to be nearly half of the lines in the song. Doyoung gave him a tight smile and glanced back down, seemingly coming to the same conclusion at the same time as Donghyuck: those lines wouldn’t be given to Doyoung. 

It seemed the company meant their promise to Donghyuck about rewarding him for his performance in patron meetings. Donghyuck’s stomach twisted as the ending notes of the song warbled in his ears. They’d meant it. They were really letting him have this, a song that he could make his own, at last.

If he focused, he could rewrite the traces of the guide singer and imagine his voice in place of theirs. Goosebumps trailed across the surface of Donghyuck’s skin. He let his eyes fall closed as the track looped over again. He could almost imagine it, everyone in the country singing along to those notes. His notes. He could almost see it. 

 

– 

 

Donghyuck was in the car, headed towards another patron meeting with Kim Jiwoo, when Johnny cleared his throat. He glanced towards him. Johnny was like him. Every movement, every sound from him had significance and intent behind it. When Johnny cleared his throat, it meant something important was coming. 

“Mark Lee called while you were filming.”

And there it was.

Donghyuck’s heart thumped. Johnny had stepped out in the middle of Donghyuck filming a video for NCT’s channel, but Donghyuck had been so focused on laughing and joking and appearing natural that he hadn’t really registered it.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, careful. He didn’t want to jump to ask questions, as much as his curiosity was piqued. Besides, Donghyuck reminded himself, it was probably just Hendery calling in, not the actual Mark Lee. 

Johnny set his phone face up on the car seat by Donghyuck.

“It wasn’t his secretary this time.”

Donghyuck gave him a sharp look, assessing. Johnny seemed to think he knew something, but there wasn’t anything to know _,_ so he didn’t appreciate that. Johnny returned his look with a bland smile, then looked significantly down at the phone as the company sales person started talking. 

In a cheery tone, she greeted Mark.

_“Hello. What can the company do for you today?”_

_“Hey. It’s Mark Lee. I purchased several idol packages from your company in the past?”_

Donghyuck wasn’t aware that he’d been holding his breath until his lungs began to burn in protest. He dragged in a breath of air. There was no mistaking Mark’s voice – though, as Donghyuck held quiet to listen, he noticed that he sounded different over the phone. His tone was natural. He spoke with the kind of ease that probably came from managing countless workers, though it was maybe a touch more assertive than he’d ever been with Donghyuck. 

_“Ah, yes, sir,”_ the saleswoman sounded as though she was smiling, _“You’re one of Haechan’s regular patrons.”_

Mark laughed, as though surprised, _“Yeah, I guess I am. Anyways, I called because I want to schedule a new meeting. Also, I have a few questions about your meeting rules, if you wouldn’t mind answering those.”_

Donghyuck glanced up at Johnny, but his expression betrayed nothing. He looked back down at the phone. The saleswoman and Mark briefly went through the scheduling process. Mark already seemed practiced at it, quickly skipping through all the options and add-ons and deals and just asking for the basic three hour meeting. 

As he listened to Mark’s voice, Donghyuck found himself wondering if he had been in his office when he’d called in. He wondered if he was sitting at his desk, or pacing around. Whether he wore his suit jacket while at work, or if he had hung it up like he did in his meetings with Donghyuck. 

_“...Great. This Sunday will work great. Thanks for your help.”_

_“Of course, sir.”_

_“Now…”_ Mark seemed to hesitate, _“My question. I was wondering if it might be possible to meet Haechan in another location.”_

_“Of course, sir. We have a network of partnered hotels available for you to choose from. I can read you what previous patrons have liked best about each option or I can send you an e-mail with their testimonials, if you prefer.”_

_“Uh, no. You don’t need to do that. I was thinking it would be nice if we could meet somewhere other than a hotel.”_

Donghyuck inhaled, sharp. There was silence on the saleswoman’s end of the call. She seemed to be at a loss for how to answer Mark’s question. And of course she would be. Patrons only met idols in hotels. They didn’t venture out of that liminal space, where no rules mattered and where memories and obligations could be left behind.

Mark cleared his throat.

_“It wouldn’t be somewhere big and public, of course. There are restaurants where you can get individual rooms. Actually, I was looking at a really nice fusion one. Zenon’s? It’s uptown. I think I’d like to take Haechan there.”_

Donghyuck gawked at the phone, unable to help himself, unable to keep his expression in check as Mark continued to speak, going on as if what he was talking about wasn’t completely out of the norm. What was he _doing?_

_“No,”_ the saleswoman blurted out, at last. She made an unintelligible sound, likely appalled at her own breach of etiquette, _“I mean, no, sir, I don’t believe you’re allowed to do anything like that with our idols. Their safety is of utmost importance, you understand.”_

_“Oh,”_ Mark sounded disappointed, _“Yes, that makes sense. I see. I guess I’ll just… continue the hotel meetings.”_

_“Of course, sir. If your meetings with Haechan are unsatisfactory in any way, please don’t hesitate to let the company know,”_ the saleswoman piped up.

Donghyuck felt something sinking in him. The feeling had first begun when the saleswoman had said no to Mark, and it had dipped lower at hearing the disappointment so clear in his voice. 

_“Uh, yeah. Will do. Thanks again for your help today.”_

_“Of course, sir!”_

The line went dead. Donghyuck stared at Johnny’s phone until its screen went dark. He looked up at Johnny, wondering if he was questioning the same as Donghyuck. He’d never heard anything like it. But then, he reminded himself, Mark Lee was the first of his patrons who didn’t seem to have a clue how the system worked. 

“Your boy’s kinda clueless,” Johnny said. His expression was still impossible to read. He seemed to be more focused on Donghyuck and his reactions than anything else.

Donghyuck made a noncommittal sound. Mark _was_ clueless. But, and Donghyuck would never say it aloud, not even to Johnny, the restaurant date idea wasn’t that ridiculous. He glanced away, out the window. It seemed like something that would make Mark happy, and Mark was his patron. It was in his interest to keep Mark happy. 

_I think I’d like to take Haechan there…_

Donghyuck slid his hand over his mouth in the off chance that Johnny was still watching him. He didn’t want to betray what he was feeling, even though he hardly knew what to term the twisting sensation within him. 

 

–

 

Donghyuck continually found himself getting distracted during his meeting with Jiwoo. His thoughts kept drifting back to Mark and Mark’s question. 

After the meeting with Mark, after Donghyuck had awoken at the hotel alone and better rested than he’d been in weeks, Donghyuck had convinced himself that Mark had been lying to him about calling back for another meeting. He’d told himself to be alright with that. He’d acted incorrectly. It was sensible for Mark to not want to be his patron any longer. 

But Mark hadn’t just kept true to his promise. He’d also switched it up, asking if they could go to a restaurant. Donghyuck attributed his interest in that idea to the fact that he’d never heard of a patron doing something like that before. 

Donghyuck was curious. He thought (and it was just a thought, nothing more) that it didn’t sound awful. Eating in a restaurant, removed from a hotel room… it sounded different. Maybe Mark was onto something there. 

The company’s rules, though. Donghyuck sighed. Maybe in a case like Minjun he could see why the rules would protect the idol. But he… well, he didn’t trust Mark, not exactly. He firmly reminded himself of that. It was just that he wasn’t scared of him. After Mark had left the hotel room, allowing to catch hours of sleep, Donghyuck had felt something small but important shift in his perception of Mark. Surely there was no harm in going out to eat with him.  

“...Haechannie.”

Donghyuck hardly registered Haechan’s name being called. He made a soft sound of acknowledgement.

“Haechan,” more insistent this time, upset. 

Donghyuck’s gaze drifted over to the origin of the voice. He saw Jiwoo, full pout on her face, staring back at him. One look at her expression was like getting drenched with a bucket of cold water. Donghyuck surfaced from his thoughts in an instant.

“Jiwoo,” he gasped, his regret genuine, “Oh – Jiwoo, I’m so sorry. What were you saying?”

Jiwoo continued to pout at him, and Donghyuck’s regret deepened. He felt as though his skills were degrading by the day. First Mark, and now Jiwoo… Donghyuck pressed his lips together, not letting himself go further down that path. He didn’t need to be thinking of other patrons at that moment.

Donghyuck reached out. He kept his expression open and warm as he extended his hand and tucked an errant strand of Jiwoo’s hair behind her ear.

He felt almost guilty for how quickly her expression changed, for the way her pout disappeared, her face transformed into a shy, pleased look.

“We’re working so hard right now. It’s difficult to keep my focus.”

Jiwoo nodded, her expression softening. Donghyuck marvelled at how quick the change was. Maybe he hadn’t lost his charm after all. Maybe it was just Mark who was immune to him – no. No thoughts of Mark. 

“Even when you’re with someone you love, thoughts of work can be distracting.”

Donghyuck nodded, fervent. He felt cold for feeling nothing as he angled in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. The kiss was just a salve to soothe the moment, to reassure her that he felt the same for her as she felt for him.  

“Yes,” he said, soft, “That’s exactly it. Thank you for being so understanding, princess.”

Jiwoo giggled as Donghyuck drew back, and he felt relief wash over him, thorough. Nothing but relief.

 

– 

 

Donghyuck dressed up for the Sunday meeting with Mark. He had plans, after all. He’d made up his mind to try a new method with Mark. Mark was different, and required a different approach. Donghyuck could handle it. He’d been meeting patrons for years. He knew how to adapt. 

Johnny raised a brow at the nice pants he had on, the oversized button down he’d stolen from the stylist’s stores, but he didn’t say anything. Donghyuck was grateful for that. He’d made up his mind. He didn’t want a reason to doubt himself then, not when he was already fighting to subdue the anxiety he felt at doing something he’d never done before.

 

Mark looked him up and down when he drew into the hotel room. He probably thought he was being subtle. Donghyuck knew too well the tells of someone checking him out, though. Donghyuck let his grin grow crooked as Mark’s gaze found its way back to his face. 

“Evening, Mark.”

“Hey,” Mark had a sheepish smile on his face, “You look better.”

Donghyuck had been feeling smug right up until then. He stopped. As much as he wanted to levy a look at Mark, because what the hell did that mean, he kept his expression to uncertain confusion.

“Better? Oh. Thanks.”

Mark nodded, his expression earnest.

“A lot better.”

Donghyuck stared at him. He should have known better than to assume Mark was checking him out for a normal reason. He should have known better than to assume he knew how things would unfold. When it came to Mark Lee, things never went as expected. A small part of him wondered how bad he could have looked last time to make Mark react like that. He hadn’t thought he’d looked all that different from usual. He smothered that prickling thought.

He slipped his hands in his pockets in a way that he hoped came off as casual, and sauntered over to Mark.

“So, did you manage to get through all that work you had piled up?”

Mark laughed, and Donghyuck smiled. Finally, he’d gotten the reaction he’d wanted.

“Sure. Did you sleep well?” Mark asked, once he’d stopped laughing. 

Donghyuck hummed. He had, surprisingly. He’d awoken feeling settled, better, until the reality that Mark had walked out on him had set in. Donghyuck was near enough to Mark that he could reach out and touch him, if he wanted to do such a thing. He didn’t reach out, though, and kept his hands in his pockets. Part of his new approach was trying a bit of subtlety with Mark, for once. 

“Mark,” he said, his voice level, “I heard you wanted to take me out to dinner tonight.”

He waited as Mark processed the information, as his expression flitted from amusement to confusion.

“I did, yeah. How did you – ,” he cleared his throat, his gaze dropping, “Turns out that’s not allowed, though. We can order room service if you want?”

Donghyuck shook his head.

“How did you get to the hotel today?” he switched gears. Mark frowned, but he answered without question.

“I drove.”

Donghyuck had allowed himself to grin again, though his heartbeat had started to pick up pace.

“Your car’s still here. What’s stopping us from leaving and coming back before the three hours are up? Let’s get dinner. What the company doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

 

Donghyuck had made the right decision in asking Mark if he wanted to get out of the hotel room. Though Donghyuck’s stomach twisted at the prospect of disobeying the company’s rules, he weighed that against the immediate way Mark had reacted to his suggestion. Mark’s excitement meant it was worth it, he thought, to bend the rules a little. He could justify it. The company would still profit in the end when Mark’s payment came in. 

There was also the small benefit that, from the moment he’d asked, Mark’s smile had strengthened. Though Donghyuck couldn’t fathom why, this seemed to be important to him.

Donghyuck glanced over, stealing a look at Mark from the passenger seat in his car. He’d gotten lost in his thoughts for a moment, his chest constricting as they’d driven out from the hotel’s backlot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a car without Johnny or another manager with him, watching him. This was unfamiliar territory. He’d never felt so far outside the company’s reach, and they’d only just left the lot. 

Mark happened to glance Donghyuck’s way the moment they’d stopped at a red light. His smile dimmed.

“You okay?” he asked, and Donghyuck quickly nodded and smiled back. 

He chastened himself for letting his thoughts get the better of him for a moment. Mark might have been clueless, but he was proving to have the uncanny ability to notice certain things about Donghyuck’s mood.

“Tell me more about this restaurant we’re going to.” 

With any other patron, Donghyuck might have purred the words, but Mark wouldn’t have liked that. He was careful and said it in a manner that held nothing but friendliness. 

He allowed himself to list slightly towards Mark and felt the beginnings of something small, warm take residence within him. Satisfaction, he guessed, as the distraction ploy worked, as Mark looked away from him. Mark’s smile remained on his face, as he glanced back to the road and started excitedly describing the dishes at the restaurant.

 

Donghyuck knew there was virtually no chance that the middle aged maitre d’ who greeted them at the restaurant would recognize him as the NCT’s Haechan but he still held back. He could forgive himself for being cautious, for treading carefully on his first excursion with a patron outside of a hotel room. He stayed a few steps behind as Mark traded words with the man, pretending to examine the likely offensively expensive vases that stood as decoration in the foyer. 

In no time, Mark had convinced the host to let them in, though Donghyuck knew that this ought to have been the sort of place where you couldn’t get in without a reservation in advance. He wondered at just how much weight Mark’s name held as the host ushered them through long halls. 

The halls were lined with identical doors for the individual dining rooms. In a strange sense, the interior of the restaurant looked both everything and nothing like a hotel hallway. While the layout was the same, the similarities stopped there. The decorations were dark, long black reeds in stained vases, and the lighting was dimmed, where in the hotels everything was bright and beige and lilies lined the floors. 

The restaurant felt hushed, but it wasn’t as dead as the halls of a hotel at night. Waiters with carts full of food walked by, and soft conversation from other diners filtered through the walls. 

At last, the host led them to their room for the evening. He opened the door for them, and Mark stepped aside to let Donghyuck walk in first. He pulled up short as he walked in, letting out a muted exhalation in his surprise. 

He was glad he’d dressed up. 

The only source of lighting in the dining room was a small amber hued light that hung low over the table and the subtle blue light from the night sky that shone through the window at the far wall but, even in the dim light, the grandeur of the room was immediately apparent. 

Donghyuck schooled his features as he took in the room, his gaze passing over the dark wooden table, lined with matching chairs. Wood furniture was a rarity, most everyone opting for furniture made of cheaper, more durable synthetic material. He wondered at the quality of it, the price tag it probably carried. He wondered how much a room at this restaurant cost, whether it rivalled a night with him. Donghyuck glanced at Mark, who seemed to be joking with the host about something. 

Though he wasn’t a stranger to wealthy patrons, and wasn’t ignorant of Mark’s wealth in particular, the knowledge that Mark was probably paying a hefty sum just for a dinner with him settled different. Donghyuck knew Mark wasn’t expecting sex at the end of it, that in fact he’d probably be upset if Donghyuck tried to suggest it. He couldn’t see Mark craving kisses or sweet nothings from him either, like his other patrons. It didn’t make sense to him. Mark kept giving him things, wanting seemingly nothing in return. Things didn’t work like that.

Mark turned from the maitre d’ at last, looking towards Donghyuck, and Donghyuck blinked, caught staring. He froze, stuck in the unfamiliar position of allowing his gaze to stray where he hadn't willed it to go.

Mark didn’t seem to notice his dilemma. He glanced back over his shoulder as the host slipped from the room, the door clicking closed behind him. 

“He was telling me about the kind of customers they’ve gotten so far today,” Mark said, his voice light, his eyes reflective, bright.

“Two politicians, an army general, and some foreign executives from abroad… but apparently we still stand out. We’re one of the youngest couples he’s seated in awhile. Said it made him happy to see some young people still have taste.”

“Couple, huh?” Donghyuck found it easy to summon a smile back onto his face.

It only seemed to register for Mark once Donghyuck had said it. He smiled back, awkward. He looked paler, in the dim amber light. 

“His word. Sorry.”

Before Donghyuck could rush to tell Mark that it wasn’t a problem, that he didn’t mind if Mark saw them that way (it benefited him, after all), Mark started forward. He pulled back a chair and cleared his throat. Donghyuck pressed his lips together, holding back his words, and took the chair that Mark had gestured for him.

Mark took the chair opposite his. The silence between them started off uneasy, stilted. They made small talk, Mark talking about a product launch he was overseeing that seemed to make him nervous to even discuss, Donghyuck telling Mark about the recording for their comeback that would start the upcoming week. 

Once their waiter came with their drinks (wine for Mark, a virgin cocktail for Donghyuck), conversation started to flow more smoothly. By the time their food came, Donghyuck found himself laughing harder than he could recall having laughed in recent memory. He didn’t even have to force it. Mark was such an idiot, was all. He was so clueless, almost to the point of it looping around and being endearing. 

Through all of his stories of day to day life, Mark’s compassion for others shone through. He seemed to genuinely care about everything and everyone he spoke about, his eyes lighting up even as he spoke about the IT guy who’d come to his office a couple days prior. He enthused about the tech guy’s skills. Donghyuck was enraptured, even though he should have been spacing about, even though listening to Mark talk about product launches and computer glitches should have been the most boring thing in the world. 

Donghyuck pinpointed it at last, the key reason he couldn’t look away, why he was so captured. The sincerity. Mark just seemed so sincere, in everything he said. He seemed to mean it, every bit of it. Donghyuck couldn’t help but be drawn in. 

During a natural lull in the conversation, as Mark picked over his food and Donghyuck sipped at his cocktail, he thought the moment felt right to put another piece of his plan into place. Donghyuck unhooked his foot from behind his ankle and slid it forward under the table. He stopped when the side of his foot nudged against something solid. He knew Mark had felt it from the way his fork stilled over his plate and from the way his eyes widened, slight but unmissable. 

Donghyuck could hardly contain the pleased smile that threatened to rise to his face as Mark’s gaze dropped from his. Mark looked down at his plate, picking through his food with decidedly less focus than before. At last, to Donghyuck’s delight, the crests of his cheeks began to color, blooming a subtle rosy hue. Mark wasn’t bad looking when he blushed, Donghyuck thought. 

Then, he felt an unanticipated thrill course through him. Mark’s foot pressed lightly back against his, staying there even as Mark continued to speak again, stuttering through a tangent about the weather. It felt good, he thought, what they were doing. Sitting, talking, just the slightest contact connecting them. It felt easy. Instead of letting himself worry over that, he took it as a sign that his plan was set in motion, that his new approach was beginning to work. 

The key to charming Mark wasn’t through sex or compliments. It was subtlety. He didn’t have to play up his cuteness, or his coyness. He had to act mature, subdued. It was difficult, but he’d figured it out at last. 

Donghyuck settled his chin in the palm of his hand and gazed at Mark. His eyes flitted lazily over Mark’s features, and he thought that all his stress and all his trial and error had been well worth it for a patron like Mark Lee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song for fic!nct's comeback is supposed to be reminiscent of highway to heaven by the way !


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> going someplace and getting somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning (??): donghyuck is implied to have had sex with a female patron in this chapter

The first day of recording for the new album came. With it, Donghyuck felt the same hollow sense of victory that he had felt when they’d all gone to the company together and he’d first learned of the new line distributions. 

Their title track was beautiful, its message all about reaching one’s dreams and ascending higher and higher. Donghyuck read the lyrics sheet for the hundredth time as he sat in wait to record his parts. He could hear the guide track in his head. He could imagine his voice singing, in a hundred different tones and iterations.

A small part of him wondered if the producers had gotten the memo from the company – that Donghyuck was to feature heavily, and to be given all the guidance to make his new image come to fruition.

“Haechan,” the call finally came, “You’re up.”

Donghyuck set the lyrics sheet aside, ran his palms along the tops of his jeans. He felt as though there was a bird taking flight in his chest, its wings brushing against his ribcage from within as they flapped, erratic. He was all too aware of the opportunity he’d lucked into with the latest payment from his patrons. He was all too aware that, if his patron support slipped, he’d never get a chance this good to show off his voice to the public again.

Donghyuck picked the lyrics sheet up, and nodded.

“Alright. I’m coming.”

 

–

 

While he waited to learn the choreography for their new songs, Donghyuck put in all the extra time he could in the practice room, going over old routines they would eventually perform again. He worked on adjusting them, on adjusting the expressions he used to use with them. He liked to wear a cap as he practiced. He kept his face in shadows, and he focused on expressing through his body movements alone. 

Ten walked into the practice room during one such solitary practice for Donghyuck. He stopped and, after a moment, took a seat by the side and watched him. Donghyuck tried not to be perturbed by his watchful eye. He exhaled through his nose and kept his gaze unerring on his reflection, not letting his movements falter. 

“Have you tried imagining you’re dancing for someone?”

And just as soon as Donghyuck had thought that, Ten had spoken, and Donghyuck had frozen. He frowned, and straightened. He was getting short of breath anyways. It was as good a time as any to catch it.

“What are you talking about?”

Ten looked serious. He so rarely looked serious that Donghyuck felt a touch of nerves as Ten gestured towards him.

“Your dancing is perfect, of course. But I can see you thinking.”

Donghyuck’s first instinct was to brush Ten off and just go back to practicing. If his dancing was perfect, then what did it matter what Ten thought he saw as he watched him? But Ten was Ten, and he’d been one of the first older members to reach out to Donghyuck back when they were still rookies. Years ago, he’d taken the time to walk Donghyuck through the earliest beginning choreographies, helping him nail the steps. Even after all these years, Donghyuck often found his gaze straying to Ten as they practiced, noting how he interpreted the choreography, absorbing, learning from him still.

Donghyuck shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He kept his gaze neutral.

“How is dancing for someone supposed to fix that? I’m already trying to dance for… everyone.” 

Ten’s smile returned, smaller. His eyes glinted above it. He had a way of looking at Donghyuck that felt like he was seeing too much, and Donghyuck didn’t like it, as much as he liked Ten.

“That’s your problem. You’re trying to dance sexy, right?”

Donghyuck nodded, thinking he saw where this was going, not liking it.

“Well, don’t think about trying to seduce five hundred people at once. That’s gonna fuck you up. It comes easier if you imagine you’re just dancing for one person.” Ten hooked his hands behind his head. Donghyuck didn’t like the smug smile on his face, “Do you have anyone you’d like to watch you dance?”

Donghyuck’s moment of openness eclipsed. He felt his lip corners tug down, and looked from Ten back to his own reflection in the mirror.

“No,” he said, short, “Obviously.” 

He started going through the movements of the routine he’d been adjusting before Ten had come in and interrupted him with nonsense ideas. Donghyuck didn’t stop, even as Ten’s sigh filtered through his focus, as Ten rose up from his seated position, and left the practice room without so much as another attempt to convince Donghyuck. Donghyuck’s movements slowed, then stilled, as the moments stretched after Ten had left. He glanced at the door in the mirror, then over his shoulder.

He frowned. Ten knew what he was talking about, probably. It was just that Donghyuck didn’t have anyone like that. He didn’t want to. The company wouldn’t want them to focus on any one person when they could earn more by pleasing many. 

 

–

 

Before Donghyuck was set to meet with another patron – a new one, a woman half a decade older than him named Harin – Johnny let him know that Mark had called in. They were in the car, en route to the hotel, and Donghyuck was beginning to notice a pattern. He side-eyed Johnny but said nothing to stop him as he filled Donghyuck in.

Mark wanted to meet again that weekend and, for the first time, he had a special request. He asked that Donghyuck dress ‘casually’ – no specific era, no exact date in mind. Just casually. From that, Donghyuck gathered that Mark was likely planning something that was a change of pace from the upscale restaurant where they’d gone on their last meeting. He felt a smile curl up his lips. He wondered what Mark had in mind, wished he could know then, and not have to wait until he saw Mark in person to find out. 

When Donghyuck became more aware of himself and his surroundings, he realized that Johnny was staring at him with narrowed eyes. Donghyuck made a face at him, hoping he’d stop trying to figure out something that didn’t need to be figured out and looked away, out the car window. 

 

Harin was beautiful. That wasn’t so surprising. They always were. More surprising was how bold she was, how straightforward. Harin had dark eye makeup, a gunmetal black that was smoked out to the point that her eyes appeared like nothing but glinting shards of obsidian. Her lips were glossed and tinted gold. 

She pulled Donghyuck to her by the lapels of his shirt and purred in his ear, asking if he wasn’t terribly tired, asking if he didn’t wish for a massage to put him at ease. Donghyuck didn’t shiver, but it was a near thing. He nodded, making himself numb. Why, yes, a massage sounded just like what he needed. 

He thought she’d push him to the bed but she’d waited and waited, until she cleared her throat and asked him if he wasn’t going to take initiative, if he wasn’t going to take control. Donghyuck looked into her eyes and saw the desperation beyond the desire. She was new, he thought, and the timing of her odd request couldn’t be coincidental with his altered image. Newer patrons like Harin wouldn’t be looking for the same Haechan. 

Donghyuck’s realization clicked into place and, with it, he shifted how he held himself, how he looked at Harin. Newer patrons would be looking for a more assertive Haechan. He calculated what he ought to say in that moment then, a second later, ordered Harin to the bed. As she moved to obey him, he berated himself for not thinking of it sooner. It had slipped his mind to consider the Haechan he should be playing for his patrons now that the company was changing Haechan for the fans. 

Donghyuck didn’t try his usual soft, sweet smile. He wouldn’t use it again for the rest of the meeting. He turned from Harin as he worked up a new one, one that would fit her image of Haechan best. Cold, perhaps, but engaging his eyes. Something had to be simmering underneath. Donghyuck exhaled, keeping his shoulders high and back straight, and turned back to face Harin.

Her gaze had already changed, gone darker. 

“Haechan,” she whispered, “I just want to make you feel good.”

Donghyuck’s stomach twisted into knots as he neared the bed, getting closer in proximity to her. Calculating what to say, and how to say it. He’d make her a regular patron by the end of it. He was determined. 

“I trust that you will,” he looked down his nose at her. His voice shook. He hoped she couldn’t tell, “Now move. You’re wearing too much.” 

 

Donghyuck was one of the lucky ones among his group. He was into men and women alike. It wasn’t rare for him to glean some enjoyment for himself, even just base fulfillment, from his patron meetings. 

He felt for Doyoung and Jaehyun, who didn’t like men and yet had to fuck them, or be fucked. He felt for Ten, who’d had to learn how to please women even though he’d never have done so if it weren’t for the company asking him to meet with every patron who desired him. He felt perhaps the most sorry for Taeyong, their most popular and sought after member, booked more often than any of them (aside from Donghyuck, as of late). 

Taeyong had confessed, on a night when they’d snuck bottles of soju into their dorm and all drunk a bit too much, that he didn’t like it, any of it. Men, women, everyone in between. He wasn’t repulsed, he just couldn’t make himself desire any patron he’d ever had, as much as he tried. It would be so much easier, he said, if he could just make himself _want_. 

They’d all gone silent. Donghyuck recalled having felt grateful that they’d let him drink, though he was underage at that point. The silence would have been unbearable otherwise. Ten had been the first to reach out towards Taeyong. He’d laid his hand on his arm, leaned in close. What he whispered to Taeyong didn’t carry across the living room floor to Donghyuck’s ears, but Taeyong’s choking, hitching giggle that came after did. 

“Yeah,” he’d said, thickly. He’d sniffed and set down his bottle of soju. That was the last time Donghyuck could recall seeing any of the older members cry, “Yeah. We are.”

 

Harin was beautiful, and she’d begged Donghyuck to fuck her, and he had. There was no high after, and no particular low, just the same continued numbness. As she’d excused herself to the bathroom to freshen up, Donghyuck lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, wondering what her Haechan would do in this scenario. After a brief calculation, he decided that he could get away with dressing immediately. 

As he zipped up his pants, he found himself yearning for a seating area, wishing Harin had paid more for the bigger suite. There was still an hour left in their meeting, and he wished he could spend it sitting there, perhaps talking to her if she wished. Although, if he thought about it, Harin was beautiful, but her voice was a touch reedy. The sound of it had already gotten to be grating. Sitting in silence would be just as nice.

 

–

 

On the day recording for the comeback wrapped up, Johnny quietly came over while Donghyuck was taking a short break and let him know that he’d be doing a live with Jaehyun later. Donghyuck nodded, his mouth flattening. He didn’t hate lives, but they were work. He’d have Jaehyun at his side. He wouldn’t be doing it all by himself. But, he’d thought, when it came time to do the live and Jaehyun sat down by him, problems came with that too. 

The fans liked them together. _Together_ together. Though Jaehyun was closest in age to him, about three years older, Donghyuck couldn’t see it. It didn’t help that he knew Jaehyun saw him at best as a little brother. Lately, though, he might have seen Donghyuck more as competition than anything else. 

Donghyuck glanced to him. It had been long enough since his last patron sales update with the company that it was possible there had been changes in their respective rankings. Weeks back, he was challenging Jaehyun for the second highest earner in their group. Ever since, he’d worked hard, meeting all the patrons he could. It was possible he’d overtaken Jaehyun already. 

Already, the feeling of mixed pride and guilt at maybe earning more from his patrons than Jaehyun left Donghyuck conflicted. Throughout the live he’d have to laugh, and initiate contact, and play a Haechan that could conceivably feel something beyond what he felt about Jaehyun. The fans loved that, after all. The company closely tracked the metrics from their socials, and every touch from Donghyuck could mean another boost in the live’s stats. 

“Nervous?” Jaehyun asked, and Donghyuck suddenly became aware that he’d been staring. From how the muscles in his face felt, he might have been frowning too. He quickly looked away, shaking his head.

“No,” he exhaled, “Are you?”

Jaehyun laughed, “Calm down, Haech. You’re on edge. You need to relax.”

Donghyuck let his eyes flutter closed. He counted to three, his fingers twitching at his side. He didn’t like being told he needed to relax, was all. He didn’t like knowing his anxiety was apparent to others. He tried hard to keep it buried. 

“Haechan.”

Johnny’s voice. Donghyuck inhaled, deep, leaning forward and opening his eyes. Johnny stood in front of him, Jaehyun’s manager Jinhyuk trailing behind him. Donghyuck only looked to Johnny. His face was focused, his brows drawn together, a crease between them.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Donghyuck replied, automatically. He felt like he was a kid again, sitting, staring up at Johnny’s frowning face. But he wasn’t a little kid, even if he was acting like one. He sighed, short.

“Really, it was just a… weird moment. Just –” 

Donghyuck didn’t like admitting a moment of weakness, especially in front of Jaehyun and his manager, but he realized his temper was getting shorter and shorter. Ever since the recording for their new songs had started, his focus had narrowed in and his time to himself had winnowed away. The strain was starting to show, apparently. 

He didn’t like it, but he’d allow himself to ask for something, just one concession. 

“Can we make sure this doesn’t run over? I’d like to keep it less than half an hour, if that’s possible.”

“Of course,” Johnny nodded, easily. His lips were still downturned. Even Jaehyun, when he spoke and Donghyuck chanced a look at him, looked more serious than he had looked before Donghyuck had spoken up.

“I’d like that too. I’ll wrap it up if it gets too close, Haech.”

Donghyuck nodded, choosing not to question Jaehyun being helpful. They were about to broadcast themselves live, just themselves, for hundreds of thousands of viewers for thirty minutes straight. He needed to start gathering the energy for that instead.

“Thanks,” was all he said, meaning it.

“We’ll give you two a few minutes,” Jinhyuk spoke up, soft. He was a tall man, about as tall as Johnny, and his features were just as intimidating. But whenever he spoke, it was just like that. Soft. Donghyuck liked him well enough. 

He nodded towards Jinhyuk in acknowledgement, grateful. Their managers knew what they were doing, he thought. If they thought it was okay for Donghyuck to have a few moments just for himself, maybe it was. He looked down, lacing his fingers together, staring at them. He needed to untense, to relax, to soften and sweeten and shift himself into something more Haechan. 

 

–

 

In the days leading up to what would be his fifth meeting with Mark, Donghyuck found himself thinking of it out of nowhere, with no provocation. It always stunned him how the littlest thing reminded him that it was coming, that he’d be seeing Mark again soon.

A fan who asked him for a picture had a black bow in her hair, and it made him think of the box of sweets from Mark. He’d had to throw it out without even unwrapping it. He was dancing alone in the practice room and Ten’s words about having someone to dance for had surfaced. From there, his mind had wandered, and he’d wondered if Mark had ever seen him dance. Mark wasn’t a fan, but perhaps he’d been curious. Perhaps he’d looked up a few videos in his spare time. The thought had been unwelcome, distracting. The moment Donghyuck realized he’d had it, he’d shut it down. 

It was with mixed trepidation and anticipation that he slid into the car with Johnny on the night of the meeting with Mark. He’d worn casual clothes, as Mark had requested. Sweatpants, a t-shirt, something he might have worn around the dorm if he managed to have a day off.

Johnny had raised an eyebrow when Donghyuck had walked from his room dressed like that, but he hadn’t said anything. Donghyuck thought he was getting away with it until Johnny opened his mouth in the car, and Donghyuck realized he’d just been waiting for the moment he had Donghyuck trapped to ask.

“What’s with the outfit?” There was intrigue in his voice. 

Donghyuck sighed.

“Mark asked for casual, remember?” 

“Yeah, but…” Johnny trailed off. Donghyuck’s hand went to his knee, his fingers already drumming an impatient rhythm.

“But what?”

Donghyuck was feeling defensive, ready to launch into an explanation as to why sweatpants were the perfect choice for meeting Mark in, for charming Mark. Sure, they weren’t anything he’d pick for any other patron, but Mark was… well, he was unlike any other patron. 

Donghyuck’s plan was meticulous, and well thought out. He had no proof, but he had an inkling that Mark would appreciate seeing him dressed down. He seemed to like sincerity. Clothes like the ones Donghyuck had on came off sincere. That was why he’d gone for them. 

All of that was on the tip of his tongue, ready to burst out, but a reason for it never came. Johnny never continued with what he was saying. He just slumped back in his seat, looking at Donghyuck like he was amusing.

“Huh,” was all he said, as a single corner of his mouth ticked up.

Donghyuck sniffed, looked away, and tried not to pay him any mind. 

 

Mark didn’t pull Donghyuck close to him as Donghyuck walked in. He didn’t lean in and press a kiss to his lips, or to his cheeks. He didn’t ask him to turn and show off his outfit. He never did what he should have, and that day was no exception. Donghyuck walked in, smile already on his face, and Mark looked him up and down and said,

“Whoa.”

Donghyuck’s smile only grew wider. He had just been thinking something along those lines himself. Mark had exchanged his customary button down and slacks for a light sweater and dark wash jeans. It was probably his version of casual, something Donghyuck found funny.

“I look that bad?” he teased, but Mark seemed to take his words at face value. He shook his head, his eyes widening.

“No, oh my God. I just didn’t know you owned clothes that were… you know. Loose.”

“And I’m still not sure if you own normal, nonbusiness person clothes,” Donghyuck returned. He realized he’d walked close to Mark without thinking about it when Mark blinked in front of him. A moment passed where he had a blank look, as though he was caught off guard, before a smile broke out on his face.

“I’m sorry – what? ‘Business person clothes’?”

Mark was nearly laughing at him. Donghyuck was surprised to find he didn’t mind. He bit his lip, watching Mark quirk his head at him, his eyes shining with barely restrained laughter.

“You heard me.”

“I know. I just… what is it that you think I do all day?”

“Haven’t thought about it too much. I figured it was just regular business person stuff.” 

Donghyuck wanted to reach out, but he caught himself. Subtle, he told himself. Keep things subtle. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants to keep from reaching out.

Mark looked even closer to bursting out into laughter, so Donghyuck continued.

“Standing around in a suit, drinking coffee in a suit, ordering your secretary around… in a suit.”

Mark snorted, at last. Donghyuck’s smile went crooked, satisfied. 

“Yeah, no. You’ve actually got it pretty much exactly right. When I think about it, that is most of my day.”

“Poor Hendery,” Donghyuck mused.

“Poor Hendery?” Mark’s mouth parted in poorly feigned outrage. He couldn’t hide his amusement if he tried, “He never listens to me. Can I get some sympathy for having a secretary who doesn’t even do his job?”

Donghyuck laughed. He wanted to meet Mark’s secretary, he realized. He wanted to see them together, how they interacted, the jokes they told each other. 

“Yes, your life is so hard,” Donghyuck grinned, “I’m in awe of how you manage to get through your days.”

“That’s a bit over the top…”

A small part of him was sounding in alarm. Easy, too easy, it said. He ignored it as best he could. Easy was alright. Easy was part of the plan. Mark kept laughing, and smiling, and the way he looked at Donghyuck as they talked… Donghyuck had the feeling of being on an empty stage hours before a performance. Just him and a spotlight directed his way. His palms weren’t sweating and his anxiety had no cause to appear. Not yet. It was just warm, and anticipating. The promise of something big.

Eventually, Donghyuck remembered that Mark had probably been planning something different than just talking. He gently reminded Mark, and Mark, who’d seemed to have forgotten himself, groaned. He hit himself in the head, apologizing profusely. Donghyuck tried to assure him he didn’t mind. He found himself laughing again as Mark led them quickly from the hotel to his car. 

 

Mark’s plan for the night turned out to be dropping by a takeout place, picking up some food, and driving along the river. They drove until the skyscrapers fell into midsized buildings and the cars turned from sleek foreign models to dusty, well loved ones whose bumpers were dotted with stickers. Mark drove and drove, until he hung an abrupt turn onto a public lot at the river. 

Donghyuck looked around and, aside from the lights of faroff shops and office buildings, aside from the cars that shot by on the highway behind them, there wasn’t anyone in sight. Donghyuck felt a small surge of gratitude. He’d been worried, a little, that Mark’s plans had involved somewhere they might have had a chance of being spotted. He told Mark as much. 

Mark confessed, as he came around to open the car door for Donghyuck, that his brothers used to take him to the outskirts of the city, to the less trafficked river banks, often. In the silence that followed, Donghyuck wondered how long ago that had been. He wondered how many years had passed since Mark’s brothers had changed their ways and fallen into the playboy lifestyle that he recalled reading about when he’d first looked Mark Lee up. 

Interrupting his thoughts, Mark started saying something about how he’d always thought the river would be a nice place to take someone. He said he wished Haechan could have seen how it looked in daylight, then cut himself off, abrupt.

At night, yellow lights from the nearby buildings reflected off the choppy river water, creating fragmented slips of brightness in the otherwise ink dark water. They settled down on the grass by the river bank, their takeout food still steaming slightly, retaining a bit of warmth. Behind them, a jogger ran by, his sneakers disturbing the gravel path, the only sound in the night time quiet aside from the muted sound of passing cars. 

Donghyuck couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so disconnected from everything. The company would have never allowed him out to the outskirts of the city at night. They’d no doubt crack down on him, limiting his answers in an interview or his screentime in a promotional video as punishment if they found out. Add to it the fact that he’d snuck out without telling his manger, and the fact that he was with a patron. He’d be in trouble if they were to ever discover it. 

Donghyuck gazed out at the choppy water, and up, up, at the light polluted indigo sky above it. Even knowing that he’d be in trouble, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret letting Mark take him to the river. It was nice, he thought, not to be in harsh lights. It was nice to not be so watched, for once. Maybe that was why Mark liked this place so much, he thought. 

Mark offered him some of his takeout chicken and Donghyuck made him take some of his noodles in return. They fell into conversation, easy, about nothing too consequential. And that was nice too. Donghyuck didn’t have to calculate his answers for moments on end. He didn’t have to think, not when they were just joking around. 

He’d finished his noodles and set them aside and the river, for all of its grandness and enchanting, ever changing appearance, couldn’t keep his attention forever. Donghyuck leaned back, threading his fingers through the soft, cool blades of grass. He glanced to the side, to Mark, not bothering to be overly subtle. If Mark noticed him looking, he would. Donghyuck wouldn’t worry himself over it.

He was sitting near enough that, even in the dark, Donghyuck could just make out the details of his face. The moon above lit his features in a flattering way, making the angles of his face stand out, casting his lashes and cheekbones in sharp relief. He was nearing the end of a ramble on a topic that Donghyuck barely understood, and wouldn’t have cared about in any other circumstance. The life of a celebrity and of a man born into high-profile wealth shouldn’t have been too different, but they still seemed worlds apart, from what Donghyuck could glean from their conversations. 

Mark’s features shifted, his brows knitting themselves together above his eyes. He turned to Donghyuck, still speaking.

“ – I don’t know. What do you think…” his words trailed off, as his eyes met Donghyuck’s, “Um.”

Donghyuck found Mark’s sudden speechlessness amusing. He smiled, small, subtle. Always subtle, with Mark. 

“Um?”

Mark’s lips parted, and Donghyuck waited with bated breath. Then Mark pressed his lips together, the corners turning down into a frown. He looked back to the river, away from Donghyuck, and Donghyuck was left wanting, wondering if he somehow had still been over the top. 

“Are you having a good time tonight?” Mark asked. Donghyuck didn’t see what that had to do with anything. He answered, though.

“Yes, I am.” 

Mark’s eyes darted over again, his frown still fixed on his face, “Really?”

“Really,” Donghyuck emphasized. He paused, wondering if he should say something sincere, if that could perhaps bring Mark’s smile back. He looked away first, thinking. 

“It’s not how these kinds of nights normally go. It’s different but… it’s nice.”

“Good,” came Mark’s reply, soft, in an undertone, “That’s – that’s good. I’m glad.” 

Donghyuck looked back to Mark out of the corner of his eye. He was frowning still, his gaze unfocused, pointed at some spot on the horizon. Donghyuck didn’t know what to make of that. Mark had said he’d wanted to know what being a patron was like, what the appeal of it all was, but he was doing everything wrong. And he didn’t even seem to care. 

He really was clueless, Donghyuck thought. But he was still frowning, and Donghyuck wished to see him smile. He was supposed to be charming him, after all. Donghyuck’s eye fell to Mark’s hand, resting on the grass between them. 

He held his breath as he reached out, setting his hand by Mark’s. He looked away, out, afraid for some reason to catch Mark’s eye in that moment. He felt ridiculous, feeling as though he was getting away with something as he edged his pinkie finger over, before laying it over Mark’s own pinkie. 

He heard Mark’s breath hitch, but didn’t dare look. He waited several moments, looking out but not seeing anything, just waiting, hoping Mark wouldn’t move away. He never could tell with him. The moments stretched long. Mark’s hand stayed where it was, not even twitching, not even moving in the slightest. 

Donghyuck glanced down once more, stealing a look at their hands, the small intersection where his pinkie lay atop Mark’s. This was all wrong, he thought. They should have been in a hotel room, falling into bed. This was all so easy, he thought next. He didn’t hate this, not hardly. He liked the point of contact between them, small though it was. He liked how Mark was warm, where his own fingers had started to feel cold as the night went on and chill set in. 

Curiosity got the better of him at last, and he looked up. 

Mark wasn’t smiling. Or, at least, not that he could tell. In the time between Donghyuck making a move and looking up, Mark had raised his other hand to his mouth. His sweater sleeves fell to his fingers and obscured the lower half of his face. He could have been smiling, he could just as easily have been frowning. Donghyuck fought a rising feeling of disappointment. He looked away before he could be caught. 

In lieu of letting himself overthink and get carried away, Donghyuck exhaled, and imagined all of his warring thoughts being carried away in the crisp night air. He focused on the point of warm contact between them, and on the spot on the dark horizon where the buildings faded into gray smudges, and let himself not think, for once.

 

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet. Donghyuck felt the lack of Mark’s rambling keenly. He just wanted to know that he hadn’t messed up. He just wanted to know if Mark was pleased. He hoped he was going to purchase another meeting, of course. 

Donghyuck thought of what they might do next time, if Mark did return. He thought of the awkward request Mark had made with the salesperson about Donghyuck’s clothes, and how conspicuous his question about taking Haechan somewhere outside the hotel had been. After spending half the ride in deliberation, when they pulled into the hotel lot, Donghyuck turned to Mark before he could get out of the car.

“We should exchange numbers.”

Mark blinked, giving Donghyuck a wide-eyed look.

“So you don’t have to talk in code about what we’ll be doing on these meetings,” Donghyuck explained, “You can still schedule through the company. This’ll just be so you can send your questions over to me instead of them.”

He’d gone over it, calculating the drawbacks of getting caught texting Mark versus Mark having access to him without an intermediary. He’d decided he would delete their messages every morning and night, just in case Johnny went through his phone or one of the other members got nosy.

 Donghyuck watched Mark carefully as he hesitated. He paused in thought, sucking his lip in, worrying it. After a beat, he shifted. He reached into his pocket and drew out his phone. When he looked back up, a smile had risen to his face. 

“Yeah. That does make sense.”

Donghyuck nodded, a little dumb struck. He filed that knowledge away – that he could make Mark smile by asking him for his number – and reached for his phone before taking Mark’s. He hesitated once more as he tapped in his number, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

Donghyuck sighed, short. 

“Don’t use your name,” he said, “Make your contact name something else.”

“Um,” Mark seemed unsure. Donghyuck huffed a laugh, despite himself. He tapped in two letters before he could think too deeply and handed the phone over to Mark.

“It’s just so someone doesn’t see Haechan in your contacts or Mark Lee in mine and connect the dots, okay? Here.”

After he’d handed Mark back his phone, Donghyuck looked away from Mark, directing his gaze out the window at the hotel looming in front of them.

“DH?” Mark asked, his voice curious. 

“Yeah,” Donghyuck confirmed, “It’s a nickname.” 

He ran his hand along his thighs, smoothing the fabric out, though there hadn’t been any wrinkles.

When Mark handed Donghyuck back his phone, he forgot the odd flare of anxiety that had spiked within him, and burst out into laughter again.

“What the hell?” 

“You said to use a nickname!” Mark’s voice got high pitched at times, almost a whine, Donghyuck noted. He glanced at him, feeling something light flutter in his chest.

“Your nickname’s Aeongi? There’s got to be a story there.”

“Oh my God.” 

Mark fell back against the car seat, his eyes falling closed. He lifted his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking as though he was full of regret.

“No, no. You brought it up – that means you have to tell me eventually, okay?” Donghyuck wrinkled up his nose, before looking back to the phone, “But, yeah, this can’t stay. I’m not having an Aeongi in my contacts. That might make people curious. You’re MK from now.”

Mark’s eyes opened, gradual. He glanced at Donghyuck. He nodded after a moment, his hand falling from his face.

“Alright, that works,” he agreed, more easily than Donghyuck had anticipated. A smile came to his face even easier, “It’s kinda like yours.”

As Donghyuck looked at Mark’s grin, his heart thumped.

“Yeah, it kinda is.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mark and donghyuck's third date (also hbd mark <3!)

The choreographer finally flew out to teach the group the dance for the title track. Donghyuck threw himself into learning it. He’d always been a quick study when it came to memorizing choreography, enough that some of the older members openly talked about how jealous they were of him. Doyoung in particular would groan about how unfair it was at the end of a long day spent in the practice room. 

The choreography wasn’t Donghyuck’s favorite style, but he could see how it suited their song and his voice. The steps were supposed to be fluid, bleeding into one another – the shifting from step to step seamless, every movement languid. 

He spent long hours in the practice room, even as the numbers of the rest of the group dwindled. He didn’t want to have to think, and going back to the dorm meant being alone with his thoughts. In the practice room, at least, he could watch himself. He could monitor his expressions and movements. He could keep himself in check. 

He felt as though sinuous sickness was creeping through him, slinking through his throat and into his chest. He felt off, preoccupied, distracted. The moment he packed up, shouldered his bag, and walked from the practice room to wait for Johnny, he couldn’t help but check his phone. 

He’d gotten used to just seeing the usual. Texts from Johnny, from the member groupchat (those would all be from Ten and Doyoung. The two seemed to forget that they could message each other directly), alerts from the company that they sent out to all their employees ( which were encouraging, but also served to remind them of the fact that they were never too far from the company’s reach). So it came as a shock to him when he saw the name ‘mk’ pop up on his screen. 

Donghyuck didn’t drop his bag, but it was a near thing. He clicked the phone off, quick, and looked around to make sure no one was lingering after practice. The halls of the floor where the practice rooms were situated in the company building were abandoned. When Donghyuck looked to the ends of the halls, he could see the sky through the windows. It was early evening, the sky a light indigo streaked with crimson and purple and pink. 

Donghyuck backed up against a wall, holding his phone at an angle where no one could see either side of the screen. He quickly checked the rest of his messages to make sure no one had forgotten anything at the practice room, and that Johnny wasn’t waiting for him nearby.

Then, anticipation building, he clicked on the message from Mark. 

 

_from: mk_

You don’t have a fear of heights, do you?

 

Donghyuck frowned.

 

_to: mk_

please don’t tell me you’re making me climb a mountain next

 

He wondered if he ought to walk to the lobby while he waited for Mark to text back. Johnny would probably be there in the company café, sipping on an Americano and reading the news on his tablet. But, by the time he’d reached the elevator, his phone had already lit up with a new text from Mark.

 

_from: mk_

I can’t do mountains either, don’t worry! There’s not going to be any dirt to mess up your clothes where I’m taking you.

 

_to: mk_

you think i’m worried about my clothes? you’re the one who wears the fancy business clothes here

 

Donghyuck glanced up at the indicator for the floor. The elevator had already nearly reached the lobby. His fingers twitched over the phone screen. He had time for one more question, and then he’d have to wait until he was back in his room in the dorm. He didn’t know if Mark would even be around to talk with, then.

 

_to: mk_

what romantic location have you picked, though? remember, the third date’s supposed to be special, so it better be nice 

 

Donghyuck exhaled, walking from the elevator as the doors slid open. He deleted the previous messages in the conversation, then slipped his phone into his pocket as he neared the café and Johnny came into view. He was sipping his Americano, as always, though the sun was only a memory by then and no one in their right mind would be drinking caffeine.

“Hey, Johnny,” Donghyuck greeted. If his voice was a bit breathless, he would put that down to just coming from practice, nothing more.

 

Donghyuck waited and waited, and acted normally through it all. Johnny wasn’t much of a conversationalist but Donghyuck would have welcomed the distraction for once. As it was, his mind was left to spin, thinking and overthinking.

At last, Donghyuck bid goodbye to Johnny and took the stairs up to the second level of the dorm two at a time. He grabbed a pack of snacks from the kitchen and went straight to his room. The door clicked behind him and he spun, ready to slip under his covers and text Mark back at last. Then, he stopped.

Jaehyun was in their shared room already. He was on his tablet, headphones in his ears, but he glanced up just as Donghyuck sighted him.

“Hi, Haechan,” Jaehyun greeted, smiling, his cheeks dimpling, “Finally back. Taeyong wanted me to tell you that there’s leftovers in the fridge, since he knows you probably didn’t check the chat.”

Donghyuck exhaled, trying to keep his face neutral, not betraying his dismay that he couldn’t get a moment alone.

“Thanks. I’m just going to stick with this for now, I think,” he waved the snack bag in the air. Jaehyun gave him an odd look, but he didn’t tell Donghyuck he shouldn’t, so Donghyuck nodded, and carried on to his bed. 

He waited until Jaehyun had turned back to whatever he was doing on his tablet, then got out his phone. He didn’t want to wait until Jaehyun fell asleep, was all.

 

_from: mk_

It’s a secret! Also… date? That’s what you’re calling meetings now? haha

 

If Mark were any other patron, Donghyuck knew how he’d respond. He sighed, squeezing his eyes together, thumping the phone against his forehead. Subtlety versus what he knew. Couldn’t he just say what felt right? 

 

_to: mk_

only when they’re with you

 

–

 

Between preparations for the comeback ramping up and the company scheduling a backlog of patrons who Donghyuck couldn’t neglect meeting any longer, it was weeks before Mark could make another meeting with Donghyuck. 

In the interim, they continued to message each other back and forth. Donghyuck had been thinking (hoping) that their messages would become stilted, that they’d come less frequent as time went on. It wasn’t as though he wanted… whatever they had between them to be awkward. It just would have made everything easier, everything less confusing, if Mark was difficult to talk to. 

But their conversations didn’t become stilted. More often than not, Donghyuck would fall asleep with his phone near his hand, dropping off only after clearing his phone of late night messages from Mark. 

And, when Johnny looked across the car at Donghyuck and finally said, “Alright. The company’s scheduled in another meeting with Mark Lee.” and Donghyuck’s heart thumped like it had a mind of its own, Donghyuck was forced to recognize that his anticipation for whatever Mark was planning for their third – date, he supposed he could call it – wasn’t dwindling. In fact, it was difficult to keep his face straight as he nodded in acknowledgement. 

Johnny continued, “But it’s tentative. It’s on the same day as the music video shoot, and they’d probably understand if you wished to push it back.”

“No,” Donghyuck said, “That’s alright. I can meet with him.”

The corners of Johnny’s lips turned up in a ghost of a smile, “Okay, I’ll confirm it with them. Also, he doesn’t have any requests for your outfit this time.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck watched Johnny tap onto his phone, careful to betray nothing with his response, “Fine by me. I’ll just dress casually again.”

Johnny didn’t seem to have any inkling about the fact that he and Mark were in constant contact, and that Mark had already hinted exactly how he should dress and what he should be prepared for in their messages. Donghyuck would keep it that way, if he could.

 

“Your hair,” was all Mark said to Donghyuck in greeting, though it had been weeks since they’d last met, though their most recent texts had all had an undeniable undercurrent of excitement about seeing each other again. Mark’s lips parted into an ‘o’. His gaze was zeroed in on the top of Donghyuck’s head and Donghyuck couldn’t help but laugh.

“You really don’t keep up with news about me at all, do you?” 

It wasn’t as though he was hurt. He was almost impressed that Mark had managed to avoid anything about their latest comeback preparations, given that his other patrons were coyly asking him for information and trying to tease it out of him. 

Mark didn’t answer, still staring at Donghyuck. Donghyuck paused, feeling a blip of nerves. He wished to put his hand to his hair for a moment, just to ensure that it still looked as it should. The style wasn’t one he was used to, though he knew that Mark probably wasn’t focused on the style of it at all. Rather, he was probably more taken aback by –

“It was brown before, right?” Mark looked down, meeting Donghyuck’s eye. He looked worried, like he’d somehow been getting Donghyuck’s hair color wrong this whole time.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck said, patient, “and now it’s blond.”

Donghyuck stuck his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach up and touch his hair. He smiled at Mark, ready to wait as long as it took until he adjusted.

Mark’s mouth snapped shut.

“It looks nice,” he said, at last. 

Donghyuck’s smile went crooked. 

“You can do better than that.” 

Donghyuck had found he couldn’t help but tease Mark. He loved the way he reacted too much, the way he never let any comment pass without getting offended or bursting out into laughter. He never suppressed anything.

This time, Mark laughed.

“It looks _really_ nice.”

Donghyuck shook his head. The past few weeks seemed to melt away. The time and space and layers of pretension between them all shed in the span of an exchange.

“You’re the worst patron I’ve ever had.”

“But I bought you takeout,” Mark made a face, smiling, wrinkling up his nose, “Bet none of the rest of them ever did that for you.”

A grown man in charge of countless employees who’d just clocked off his lucrative job and was wearing a starched, pressed suit should not have been as cute as Mark was in that moment. He had no right, Donghyuck thought.

“Yeah, well. We both know you’re not like the rest of them,” Donghyuck said, still half distracted. 

From the way Mark went silent, the way his expression shifted, changed, into something less carefree, Donghyuck knew he’d said something wrong. Or right. He didn’t know, but he regretted saying anything. Mark didn’t continue joking around after that. He cleared his throat, then forced an awkward, fake smile onto his face, the one that was far too unpracticed to be believable. He clapped his hands together.

“You ready to go?”

“Sure,” Donghyuck smiled back. Although his smile was just as fake, he figured it looked natural enough to soothe Mark’s mind, “Are you ready to stop being so secretive and tell me where you’re taking me now?”

Mark shook his head. His smile – his real smile – was coming back already.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough. Come on.”

 

Mark, Donghyuck realized, was trying to impress him. He’d taken Donghyuck not to a mountain, and not to a tower, nor any of the guesses Donghyuck had lobbed his way over the weeks. He’d taken Donghyuck to his workplace, a stainless steel and glass windowed building that loomed high above them as they walked up to its entrance. ‘Lee Tech’ was projected in steady blue above a holo platform in front. 

The thing was – despite himself, Donghyuck _was_ impressed. He’d had patrons tell him of their yachts, their mansions, their closets full of designer clothes. He’d never been shown this much, though. The building in front of him would have dwarfed the company’s headquarters, Donghyuck found himself thinking. It was hard to believe. The company seemed so insurmountable, so imposing. Yet if Lee Tech stood next to it, it would have looked small.

Donghyuck looked from Mark’s name in the holo sign to Mark himself, but Mark didn’t seem to be waiting for his reaction. He’d already drawn ahead of Donghyuck, looked to be seconds from bursting out into laughter.

“I didn’t bring you here to show you what it looked like from the outside. Hurry up. My favorite security guard’s going off her shift soon and I want to catch her before she goes.”

Donghyuck nodded. Unable to come up with a clever reply, he shook himself, and followed.

 

They stopped by the guard station. Donghyuck hung back and ducked his head as Mark greeted those working there and picked up an unmarked bag from a cheery looking woman who seemed to be the favorite guard he’d mentioned. From there, they went to the elevators. Donghyuck frowned as he watched Mark push the button for the highest floor. 

“Are we going to your office?”

Mark looked at him, amused expression on his face.

“That wouldn’t be very romantic, would it?”

And, oh, Donghyuck’s heart did something curious when Mark said that. He shrugged, helpless to answer. Mark smiled at him, then looked away. He leaned up against the back of the elevator, watching Mark discreetly, as Mark watched the floor numbers rise.

“No. You’re getting VIP treatment.”

 

VIP treatment meant the roof, Donghyuck learned. He looked out across the dimly lit, rooftop. At the farthest edges, concrete fell away to the view of skyscrapers of glass that reflected a rainbow of colors of streetlights below. The cracks between them revealed the smudged over, newly night sky. 

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting, at all. The view was nice enough, but the rooftop itself felt almost dingy. The soles of his brand new sneakers were already getting scuffed with soot and dirt and who knew what else as he walked across it. He glanced at Mark, wondering if he was missing something. Maybe Mark hadn’t been trying to impress him after all. 

Mark was smiling, shyly. He ran his hand along the front of his tie, smoothing it, before walking closer to Donghyuck.

“This is it,” he said, as if presenting something grand to Donghyuck. 

“Oh,” he said, looking away from Mark, unable to look him directly in the eye, “It’s cute.”

To his surprise, Mark snorted.

“It’s not much to look at, yeah. Just wait, though. Here, let me show you.”

Donghyuck glanced at Mark just as Mark made an aborted move towards him, as if he’d been about to grab his hand. Then he winced, and pulled back. Donghyuck thought it endearing, rather than offputting, how awkwardly he recovered from it as he gestured for Donghyuck to follow him. 

Mark went beyond the small area lit by fluorescent light by the roof access door. Donghyuck watched him carefully as he followed a step behind. They went nearly to the edge, to the periphery of the roof. Donghyuck somehow hadn’t noticed that there was an area set up at that corner of the roof until they’d nearly reached it, it was so dark. 

It looked like just a bunch of clutter at first glance, just some junk someone had never cleared from the roof. As they came closer, Donghyuck was able to make out that it was a wrought metal café table. It was painted a shade of teal that Donghyuck could tell even in the low light was sun bleached. Around it, a mismatched array of lawn chairs were arranged. Atop it, an ashtray with rain and wind-tamped ashes. 

Donghyuck eyed Mark.

“What is this?”

Mark shrugged and took a chair. He looked up at Donghyuck, his grin nervous, his eyes bright. 

“It’s where I go to get away.”

Before Donghyuck could get in a word, Mark continued. He’d launched into another ramble, before Donghyuck could stem it, even if he’d wanted to.

“Or, well, where I used to go,” he cleared his throat, “Back in my first months in the company, when I used to have more time and less – anyways. No one comes up here. It’s just me and the birds and the sun, really.”

Donghyuck took the seat by Mark, surveying him silently. He hadn’t thought about it, but he supposed Mark also had to deal with eyes on him all the time. High expectations, too. Mark flashed a finger indicating for Donghyuck to wait, then placed the bag he’d gotten from the security guard up onto the table. From it, he drew out a bottle, a couple of glasses, and a familiar box with a ribbon around it. One of its corners was slightly beat up but, otherwise, it looked no worse for the wear.

“They’re so good, Haechan, honestly,” Mark insisted, when Donghyuck had stared at the box of sweets for probably a moment past the point of normalcy. He shook himself and looked up, smiling.

“I believe you,” he said, half his mind occupied, “I can’t wait to try them.”

How much things had changed, he thought. Accepting Mark’s gift and eating the sweets wouldn’t number among the worst things he’s done at this point. That was nothing compared to the sneaking around and the texting.

“Drink?” Mark offered, blissfully unaware of what was going through Donghyuck’s mind. He offered a glass, two fingers full of an amber liquid from the bottle. Donghyuck took it. Maybe he’d break another rule that night, he thought. A self imposed one, for once.

What could it hurt to drink a couple drinks, after all? Or three, or four?

 

“Jesus.” 

Mark’s cheeks were probably bright red but, in the dusk, they looked as though they were flushed violet. He was listed against the high ledge at the edge of the roof, staring at Donghyuck with marvel and bewilderment. 

“How are you a better drinker than me?” he asked. The bottle of liquor, half empty, hung from his fingers. 

Donghyuck laughed. He angled forward, set to fix Mark’s hair. It was in disarray from Mark’s fingers running through it, fitting the rest of his state of dishevelment. His tie was loosed, hanging crooked around his neck, and the top button of his shirt was undone. 

Mark froze as Donghyuck brushed through his hair, going still, not even blinking until Donghyuck pulled back. Then he uttered another, “Jesus,” and glanced away. Donghyuck gave him a look, but didn’t ask. 

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just a natural.” 

He was feeling loose, relaxed. He’d been drunk before, a few times, but always with supervision from either his managers, his members, or both. He didn’t know what to do when he didn’t have to watch his every move. He hummed, and turned, resting his elbows on the ledge and plopping his chin into his hand.

The night sky was pretty. If he squinted hard enough, he felt he could almost see through the scum surface of light pollution into the stars. Despite the chill, he felt warm, his face heated through, his lips tingling. He smiled at the sensation, finding it funny.

“You know, you have a hundred different smiles,” Mark said, out of nowhere. Donghyuck turned to look at him, puzzled. 

“What?”

Mark was still leaning back against the ledge. He looked contemplative, his gaze directed down at Donghyuck. He gestured out with the bottle in his hand, vaguely.

“Like the way you smiled when we first met. That was… you know? Then there’s the smile when you’re making fun of me, and the smile when I say something that confuses you,” Mark was grinning by then too. 

Donghyuck rose up, lowering his arm, settling it beside the other on the ledge. He blinked at Mark. He hadn’t known he’d been paying that close attention.

Mark pointed a finger at him, directing it right in his face.

“This one’s new,” he announced, triumphant, “I haven’t seen this one before.”

Donghyuck pressed his lips together and batted Mark’s finger out of his face.

“Shut up,” he said, without heat. 

A small part of him still didn’t know what to think about Mark noticing that. If he was sober, he’d probably have worried. If Mark had been paying close enough attention to his smiles to tell them apart, he’d probably have noticed other things as well. 

Donghyuck wasn’t listening to that small part of him, though. Not then. 

Mark crinkled up his nose.

“Is that any way to talk to your patron?”

“It is when it’s you,” Donghyuck said, with finality. That seemed to satisfy Mark, as his smile went smaller, softer, and he nodded. 

“I’ll allow it, then.”

He raised the bottle once more to his lips and Donghyuck stared. He let himself, justifying it because Mark’s Haechan would have definitely done the same, and he wanted to, and he was tipsy. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought Mark Lee plain. He was the kind of handsome that grew on you, he thought, the more you knew of him, and the more he saw of you. 

Donghyuck’s face felt hot, and he put that down to the alcohol in him, as Mark lowered the bottle from his lips. He was staring back at Donghyuck. There was a shiny spot on his lower lip, a drop left behind by the mouth of the bottle. He ought to lick it off, Donghyuck thought. 

“What are you thinking about?” Mark asked.

Donghyuck’s breath hitched, not a gasp, not quite, but close. He forced his gaze up from Mark’s lips. 

“I still don’t get what you get from this,” Donghyuck said, the words brimming up and coming out before he could stop them. Mark cocked his head, questioning.

Donghyuck bit down on his lip. This was why he didn’t drink. Drinking meant loss of control. Drinking meant speaking without thinking. He inhaled, deep. The air was thinner on the rooftop, or at least he imagined it to be. He was feeling faintheaded, weak. His eyes kept straying to Mark. 

He changed tracks. Distractions, he thought. Distractions were good.

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” he edged closer to Mark, to better see his face. Everything was so shadowy, so dark, “Tell me something secret about you.”

Mark didn’t seem too perturbed by the change in topic. He even smiled at Donghyuck, confused though it was.

“Something secret?”

“Everyone’s got something hidden,” Donghyuck said. 

He needed to stop looking at Mark’s face. He looked down and his eyes fell upon Mark’s tie. He wanted to reach out. It looked soft, sleek. It was probably made of silk, or something of the like. He didn’t reach out. 

Mark was taking too long to answer. Donghyuck looked up and Mark’s face was closer than he remembered it being before. Donghyuck had stepped closer without thinking, he realized, and found no regret for it.

“Well?” he prompted, his voice a touch breathless, “What are you hiding?”

Mark’s eyes flicked over Donghyuck’s face. His expression was unreadable. 

“You,” he said, “I guess I’m hiding you?” 

Donghyuck shook his head, “That doesn’t count. Everyone does.”

Mark sucked his bottom lip in as Donghyuck watched. After a moment, he released it, leaving it flushed and shiny once more.

“Only my best friend knows that I like men,” he said, at last. His voice was low, “I’ve never – I couldn’t ever date. I don’t know how the public would take it if they found out. I don’t know if it would affect our stocks... but I know my father. I know it would –” Mark cut himself off and Donghyuck’s heart lurched. He hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, “I know how he’d react. I was always supposed to be the perfect son, you know? But… shit. That’s more than you asked for.”

Mark scrubbed his face with his free hand, and the smile on his face was changed. It had altered. Donghyuck thought he should start cataloguing Mark’s smiles. This one was weary. Donghyuck had listened to countless stories from countless lovers and Mark’s hushed confession had made him ache more than any he could remember. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, sorry for making Mark recollect that, sorry for making his voice crack, his smile weary, sorry that Mark was in that kind of position. 

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Mark laughed, “Wow. That was… yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not for being honest,” Donghyuck said, the reassurance summoned from the liquor-soaked, unfiltered depths of his mind.   

Mark’s lips parted. Donghyuck’s gaze fell to them. 

Mark had never dated, he’d said. Donghyuck found himself wondering if that was the reason why he’d been so taken aback by Donghyuck being so forward in their first meetings. Was Mark just shy, inexperienced? He wondered if he’d ever even kissed anyone. 

“You did get one thing wrong, though,” he found himself saying. 

“Oh?” Mark’s voice was amused. 

Donghyuck nodded, tentative. He forced his gaze up.

“You’ve dated,” he said, “We’re dating right now.”

Mark’s face did something funny, then. Donghyuck had angled close enough by that point that he could watch several emotions work their way across Mark’s face. In the end, he was grinning. His eyes glinted bright above his stretched smile. 

“Is that what they tell you to – oh.”

Mark’s soft exclamation of surprise escaped him as Donghyuck leaned in closer, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from Mark’s body, a single source of warmth in the cold night air. Donghyuck reached forward to catch Mark’s waist, as much to stabilize himself as anything else. 

Mark’s eyes were wide as ever. Donghyuck felt puffed exhalations from Mark’s lips ghosting across his own. 

Donghyuck wanted this, he realized, with a jolt. The realization coursed through his body like an electric shock. He wanted to get close, he wanted to pull himself flush to Mark, he wanted to kiss him while his lips tingled and his limbs felt warm and loose.

His eyelids fell closed of their own accord.

“Haechan…” Mark spoke and, as he spoke, Donghyuck could feel like the lightest contact between his lips and Mark’s own. Donghyuck chased that, chased the heat in front of him that emanated from Mark.

Then – a chilling clatter, as glass struck concrete, but didn’t break. 

“Shit,” Mark exhaled, stepping aside. 

Donghyuck’s eyes opened, gradually. In slow motion, as if waking from a daze, he looked down. He saw the bottle of liquor that had been in Mark’s hand rolling around in an irregular circle, its contents spilling from it, soaking the concrete and turning it black. It must have slipped from Mark’s fingers just as Donghyuck had been about to kiss him. 

Mark bent down to pick it up. Once he’d risen, he wouldn’t catch Donghyuck’s eye. He didn’t look his way. Instead, he cleared his throat before raising his arm to glance at his wristwatch.

“It’s, um, it’s getting close to the time when we should be on our way, right? I’ll need to call a car. I’m drunk. Or, I’ve been drinking. I shouldn’t…”

Donghyuck felt the sinuous feeling in his chest turn. It shifted from something slick, tentative, to something weighted. It sunk deep and settled, a heavy weight in his chest, as he watched Mark turn his back to gather all the things he’d brought. He was struck with an unfamiliar yearning, watching the line of Mark’s shoulders as he worked.

Even Donghyuck wasn’t a good enough liar to convince himself that he’d acted for the sake of pleasing a patron just moments ago. He’d wanted, pure and simple. How unfortunate was his luck, to want to kiss the one patron who didn’t seem to want him back?

Donghyuck finally looked away, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep his fingers from fidgeting.

He exhaled a sigh, and closed his eyes, already imagining how painfully awkward the car ride back would be with Mark and a stranger and the weight of what had almost just happened between them. As bad as it was, though, it wouldn’t measure up to how much Donghyuck’s thoughts would spiral when he was finally alone. He really wasn’t looking forward to that.

 

“You’re drunk,” Johnny stated, first thing, when Donghyuck had barely greeted him and buckled in. He looked surprised. Donghyuck wasn’t having it. He’d already had to sit through a twenty minute ride with a rambling Mark and a stoic driver who seemed none too pleased about carting a couple around near to midnight.

“Barely,” Donghyuck grumbled, sinking into his seat. 

“What happened?” Johnny did away with formalities, cutting right to the chase, “You don’t do this around your patrons, Haechan.”

“Nothing happened,” Donghyuck said, a touch too loud, too harsh. Johnny looked taken aback. Donghyuck already regretted it. He wished he could keep sinking down, sink all the way through the floor.

“I don’t believe that,” Johnny said, softly. He stared at Donghyuck for moments longer, then looked just about set to give up, and pick up his phone again. Donghyuck sighed.

“Really, nothing happened. It’s just – I let myself get comfortable, okay?”

Too comfortable, he didn’t say. The back of Mark’s head after he’d turned away was still fresh in his mind.

The crease between Johnny’s brows reappeared. He frowned.

“What did you do? Did you say or do anything that could get you in trouble?”

Donghyuck guessed Johnny meant in trouble with the company, maybe even with the press. Donghyuck wanted to think on it, but he already knew the answer to Johnny’s question, and he already knew that hesitating would as good as give it away. 

“You don’t need to worry. I know how to behave,” Donghyuck turned from Johnny, angling his body from him as best he could, telegraphing that the conversation wasn’t welcomed anymore.

Getting drunk on a rooftop with Mark had been a horrible decision. The worst part was, Donghyuck wasn’t regretting it because of the company and what they’d do to him if they found out. He wished he was. That’d be simple, familiar. 

Instead, he found his regret centered on just one stretch of seconds among the hours they’d been there. He found himself going over the moment he’d leaned in, the moment he’d heard Haechan’s name on Mark’s lips, wondering if he could pinpoint when the performance had become real.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another slip-up leads donghyuck desperate enough to seek advice from the other members

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for implied sexual content between donghyuck and a male oc (another patron ~)

Donghyuck hoped he could forget that moment – that mistaken span of time where he’d wanted, and he’d let himself want. He threw himself into practices, even more than he had before. If he wasn’t panting by the end of it, if his shirt wasn’t soaked through with sweat, he didn’t stop. He just kept going. 

Mark had texted him that night sending an apology. The next meeting would be better, he’d said. The rooftop hadn’t been the best idea, he’d said. 

It was all so confusing. Even after Donghyuck’s latest mistake, Mark still wanted to keep meeting. His motivations were a mystery, and his feelings towards Donghyuck even harder to discern. Donghyuck had felt annoyed, and then annoyed with himself for being annoyed. He’d deleted the message right after sending a reassuring, if short, response. 

He needed space, he decided. He needed time to figure out just how quickly he could get over the odd yearning for Mark. It was just a blip, he told himself. It was just a product of the combination of too much liquor and the heady feeling of being on top of that rooftop, on top of the world. But, as the final week of preparations for their group’s comeback began, something happened that made Donghyuck reconsider if he ever could ignore that moment. 

 

He was meeting with a male patron, an inoffensive man only a few years his senior who towered over him but had kind eyes. He was an aspiring actor, with the kind of natural handsomeness that all but guaranteed his future success in the industry, and Donghyuck had been attracted to him from the moment they’d met. He enjoyed their time together as much as he could have. Sejin wasn’t the best conversationalist but, most of the time, they weren’t talking. 

Only half an hour into their meeting, Sejin had Donghyuck laid out beneath him. His hands were roving over Donghyuck’s body and Donghyuck had his thoughts sectioned off. One part of him was enjoying the sheer physical sensation, while one part of him was keeping track of Sejin, how he was reacting, how Donghyuck would have to adjust his own movements and expressions to keep Sejin pleased.

He couldn’t monitor all the time, though. Sejin moved from mouthing at Donghyuck’s jaw up, to his lips, and Donghyuck had to close his eyes. Sejin’s lips were plush, full. He smelled of rich, heavy scents that leaned floral, with deep spiced notes underneath. 

Kissing him probably felt nothing like kissing Mark. 

And, yet, Donghyuck’s mind didn’t let that stop it. Soon after Donghyuck’s eyes fell shut, his imagination started to stray. His mind filled in the blanks, conjuring up unwelcome images. 

In Donghyuck’s head, the lips shifting against his didn’t belong to an actor whose idea of small talk included his latest headshots. In his head, it was Mark kissing him. His mental picture shifted, shimmered like a mirage in a desert. It was Mark heated, warm above him. It was Mark’s hands that had rucked up his shirt and snaked underneath. 

Donghyuck’s breath hitched, and a filtered gasp escaped his lips. 

He should stop, he thought. He had to stop himself. But he’d already begun. Everytime Sejin kissed him, he couldn’t help it. He imagined it was Mark. Everything Sejin did to him, he couldn’t help it. He imagined it was Mark.

He felt a hot lick of guilt flash through his arousal. This was unfair to everyone. Sejin, who was paying for every part of him, his attention included. Mark, who didn’t seem to want to kiss Donghyuck at all, and would have probably been disgusted if he knew the extent of Donghyuck’s imagination about him.

He felt guilty, but he couldn’t stop. 

From the first conjured image of Mark, something had shifted. 

When Sejin broke the kiss and drew back, saying in a wracked, satisfied voice, “God, you’re desperate for it today,” Donghyuck barely registered the hidden sting of it. 

He nodded, keeping his eyes jammed shut, and asked Sejin to kiss him again already. When he spoke, it ruined the illusion. When he spoke, it reminded Donghyuck that nothing going on inside his head was real. 

The lips kissing his were rough, overeager. The hands on the button of his jeans were too big, too indelicate. He could pretend though. He’d hate himself for it later, but it made the few hours following more than bearable, when he just pretended.

He twisted his hands in Sejin’s hair (too long, too coarse) as Sejin moved down from his mouth. He kept his eyes closed, aimed an apology at Mark, and held his breath as a hot, wet tongue began to lathe at his chest.

Black hair pushed back, a few strands falling out. Eyes that were dark and wide. Cheekbones made sharper by the stark lighting contrast of a moonlit night. His brain filled in the gaps. He imagined that’s what he might see, had he just opened his eyes and looked down. He kept his eyes closed as a moan escaped from his lips. 

“Yes,” Donghyuck exhaled. He retained only enough control to hold back Mark’s name from escaping amid the breathless exhalations, “Please. Yes.”

 

As soon as the door to Sejin’s hotel room closed behind him, Donghyuck started for the elevator. He needed to walk quickly because, if he went quick, maybe he could leave what had just happened in Sejin’s room behind. As the elevator doors slid closed, he paused, his breathing coming shallow, ragged. 

The three hours had eclipsed quicker than he’d realized, with his mind straying the way it had. Sejin had seemed more pleased by the end of it than Donghyuck remembered him ever being before. His memory could have been faulty, though. He didn’t trust his own thoughts in that moment, anyways. 

He paused, listing back against the back of the elevator.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, shaky, too shaky. 

He curled his hand into a fist, frustrated with his imagination, with his willpower, with himself. He lifted his fist, set to hit the wall, then slowed at the last moment. He knocked his fist back against the wall behind him, in a sad thump. 

“Shit,” he sighed.

Why? He couldn’t help but think. 

Why had his mind turned Sejin into Mark, why hadn’t he been able to stop his thoughts, and why had it made everything that had happened more enjoyable? He let his hand fall, hitting against his thigh. He sighed, short, and looked up. His reflection, blurred in the brushed gold of the elevator doors, stared back at him.  

Mark was following him everywhere, popping up on his phone, in his thoughts. Even in his meetings with other patrons, he couldn’t keep him out. It wasn’t fair, Donghyuck thought. It wasn’t fair for him to occupy so much of the space in Donghyuck’s mind, when he doubted Mark had ever thought about him like that at all. 

He wished he could stop liking Mark. 

That’s what he’d realized, after Sejin. 

He liked Mark. 

Sejin was hot. Objectively speaking, he was gorgeous, with the kind of face everyone, even Donghyuck, could be into. Donghyuck shouldn’t have been wiping him out, replacing him with an imagined Mark. But Donghyuck’s mind hadn’t cared. 

He’d lost some of his control that evening, unfiltered and unfaked gasps and moans mixed in among his calculated responses. And it was all Mark’s fault. No, not Mark’s fault. He had only himself to blame.

His desire for Mark probably wouldn’t be fleeting, he realized after Sejin. It wasn’t something that was solely physical, something that could be sated with other patrons, other faces, other nights. 

It ran deeper, and he hated himself for that. He hated himself for letting it get that far. He should have realized sooner, he thought. It was too late now. 

 

“How did it go?” asked Johnny, later.

Donghyuck stayed silent.

“Do you think he was content?”

Donghyuck nodded. Sejin loved it. He loved Haechan when Haechan was squirming, losing it, when he didn’t know that Donghyuck’s thoughts were far away, that Donghyuck was enjoying himself with someone else.

“Do you think he’ll purchase another package?”

Donghyuck nodded, his deep cutting feelings of frustration and anger from before already dissipated. Familiar numbness set in as he and Johnny fell back into their routine.

“Is it alright if I schedule him in again? It seems he’s already indicated he’d like another meeting with you.”

Donghyuck nodded, as a dangerous, insidious thought occurred to him. Sejin hadn’t noticed or cared that Donghyuck hadn’t been thinking of him when they were together. Donghyuck could do it again. He could, and he might. He had no reason or will to stop it. Sejin would fuck him again, and he could imagine it was Mark instead. 

Neither of them would really be with who they wanted to be with. Sejin would be with some version of Haechan that only existed in the confines of his hotel room between the evening hours of nine and midnight, and Donghyuck would be with some version of Mark that wanted him back. 

Donghyuck’s eyes fell closed. His lips twitched down, some unbidden, clenching sensation gripping his heart. He tapped his fingers on his knee, and let that be the one point where his control slipped. He focused on his fingers, on the rhythm they tapped, and didn’t allow himself to lose control of his thoughts again. 

 

–

 

Sequestering his feelings for Mark would have been so much easier if he hadn’t given Mark his number and free reign to text him whenever, Donghyuck thought. Every message he sent Donghyuck was so stupidly Mark. So earnest, so unwittingly funny, so open. He would have resented Mark if he could, for being so unhelpfully likable. 

_Hey,_ Mark texted, in the middle of the day, when Donghyuck should’ve just hidden the notification for his text and definitely shouldn’t have unlocked his phone to look at it. 

_I saw this and thought of you :) It’s cute, right?_

It was a picture of an animal. Some fat little deer-looking thing that didn’t look anything like Donghyuck, in Donghyuck’s opinion. Looking at it made the corners of his lips twitch, though, because Mark had called it cute, and Mark had said it reminded him of Donghyuck. 

Donghyuck sighed, the smile sliding off his face in a moment. He was losing it, he was sure of it. He was also helpless but to reply. 

He glanced up and around, checking to make sure the other members in the practice room were occupied. They were closing in on promotions, in the final days of preparations, and everyone was more focused than ever. He wished he could be as focused as he’d once been, but that was nearly impossible.

 

_to: mk_

you saw that animal and the first thing that came to your mind was me? uh… thanks

 

Not even thirty seconds later, Mark replied.

 

_from: mk_

It’s so cute though! Look at its eyes. He looks a bit shifty haha.

 

_to: mk_

okay what exactly are you trying to say? that i’m a shifty animal?

 

_from: mk_

Wait, no.

 

_to: mk_

or that i’m cute? is that what you were trying to say?

 

_from: mk_

Wait, hold on. 

 

_to: mk_

:)

 

_from: mk_

:(

See if I send you a picture of a cute animal again.

 

_to: mk_

a ha! so you were trying to call me cute after all

 

_from: mk_

Oh my God.

 

“Who are you texting?”

Donghyuck didn’t yelp in surprise, but it was a near thing. He did scramble to click his phone off, though. His heart was beating out of his chest, still in shock, still feeling as though he was on the precipice of being caught. He locked eyes with Jaehyun, standing a meter away from him, looking at him with abject curiosity. 

Donghyuck lowered his phone, slow. Looking like he had something to hide would only make him look suspicious, and it would be even harder to get away with things like texting Mark right under their noses. 

“Johnny?” Donghyuck said it like it was obvious. He kept his tone cool, “A patron I was supposed to meet tonight cancelled last minute.”

“Oh…” Jaehyun looked confused. He glanced at Donghyuck’s phone, then back up, “Do you dislike the patron or something?”

It was Donghyuck’s turn to be confused. 

“What?” he asked, unsure what Jaehyun was getting at.

Jaehyun cleared his throat, clearly regretting opening up the line of conversation. They tried not to talk about each other’s patrons, especially in broad daylight, especially when sober.

“You were just… smiling.”

He said ‘smiling’ hushed, like it was a dirty word. And with good reason. Donghyuck felt a scowl form on his lips. He pushed his phone back against the wall and rose up. 

“I like every patron I have, Jaehyun. Don’t you?”

Jaehyun’s smile would have been painfully awkward, if they weren’t all so practiced in faking ones that looked natural. Donghyuck knew his tells, though. Stiffness around the eyes, the corners of his mouth too evenly aligned. Jaehyun’s smile then was as fake as anything.

“Yes,” he agreed, “Of course I do.”

Donghyuck hummed, and walked away. He started to work once more on the song’s choreography. He had a seven second solo dance break, and he wanted it to be flawless. He wanted every fan in the crowd entranced and every camera pointed on him to capture everything right. His hard work _would_ pay off. He would be the face of the comeback, and everything he’d sacrificed would be worth it. 

Even as he told himself not to be distracted, though, his mind strayed. He wondered if Mark had texted him again. He wondered if he was in his office right then, thinking of Donghyuck as he worked, as Donghyuck was thinking of him.

 

–

 

That minute-long exchange with Jaehyun had gotten Donghyuck thinking. All the older members had been meeting patrons as long as him, and had been meeting more of them for much of that time. It was possible that one of them might have encountered something similar – slipping up, letting your feelings get away from you, liking a patron more than you should. 

Liking a patron wasn’t good, in Donghyuck’s view. It was all cons. It meant you were subject to them, it meant they held your happiness hostage, in a way. 

When he texted Mark, he felt lighter. When he recalled how Mark had turned away, he felt frigid. If Mark were to ever decide that Haechan wasn’t an acceptable cause to spend a fortune on, Donghyuck would be left, without so much as an explanation. It felt too fragile, too open for something that might hurt him. 

His members always told him that he could come to them for advice, whenever. He’d been reticent to do that for as long as he could recall, as that might as well have been an admission of weakness. He was already years younger than all of them. He already looked the weakest next to the rest of them. He’d always tried to seem resilient in front of them, to give them one less thing to worry about. 

But when he weighed his doubts about being able to handle his desire for Mark against possibly appearing weak in the other members’ eyes, it wasn’t a competition. He needed their insight, he decided. He needed to figure out where to go from here.

 

– 

 

Donghyuck thought first of Doyoung. As overbearing as he sometimes felt, Doyoung was always the first one he thought of when he was tempted to ask the older members for advice. It was hard to get any of the members alone in private, though. At any given time, they were surrounded by stylists and managers, or cameras and fans. And this wasn’t a question Donghyuck was about to blurt out in the middle of practice.

On a night when Donghyuck knew Doyoung had a patron meeting, he sat up waiting for him in the kitchen. He knew Doyoung would have to walk by it to get to his room. All he had to do was wait. He tried to busy himself with a game on his phone, but fell in to just texting Mark eventually. It was too much of a draw to resist.

Donghyuck still felt a prick of guilt whenever he saw Mark’s name, or when he appeared, unbidden, in his thoughts. He couldn’t imagine the reaction Mark would have, were Donghyuck to ever confess that he’d gotten through a patron meeting by imagining that the patron’s hands on his body belonged to Mark. 

Would Mark’s lip curl in disgust? Would he tell Donghyuck that he was sick in the head? Or would he just walk away without saying a word? No – he’d probably laugh, high and awkward and fake. Donghyuck would force him into being fake, and Mark would never book another meeting with him. 

Donghyuck sighed. He looked at the front door to the dorm, wishing Doyoung would walk through. He needed help.

 

At last the door clicked open, and Doyoung came though. With his head low, he slipped off his shoes and nudged them in place by the door. Donghyuck couldn’t see the expression on his face. The entryway was in shadows, Doyoung’s face shadowed with it. 

He cleared his throat to let Doyoung know he was there. Doyoung raised his head, the expression on his face one Donghyuck knew too well – the look of numbness, the dazed look in his eyes, in the slack of his mouth. The look you got when it settled in; what you’d just done, why you’d done it, and how you’d do it again, just to keep singing. Donghyuck’s heart thumped. 

Doyoung’s expression sharpened in recognition. His brows drew together as he walked into the kitchen, into the low lighting.

“Haechan? You should be asleep.”

Absurdly, Donghyuck felt like cracking a smile. He could always count on those kinds of comments from Doyoung.

“I just wanted to ask you something. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Doyoung’s brow furrowed further. He walked up to the bar where Donghyuck was seated and crossed his arms.

“What is it?”

Donghyuck didn’t bother easing into it. Doyoung was tired, and drained. Donghyuck was tired in another way. Though none of them were ever fully open with each other, they all knew no one could ever understand their situations and struggles like the other members. 

Donghyuck slid his hands along his jeans, drying his palms, and then he came out with it. He asked Doyoung if he’d ever liked a patron, really liked one. 

Doyung looked at him long and piercing and Donghyuck had nearly ducked his head and issued some excuse to salvage the situation. Then, Doyoung looked away first, glancing to the side and sighing, before looking back and crossing his arms even tighter over his chest.

“Why do you think you like this patron?”

Donghyuck noted his careful choice of words. _Think…_ Donghyuck’s smile went crooked.

“He gives me the warm fuzzies.”

Doyoung didn’t crack a smile. He just looked tired, “Haechan…”

Donghyuck sighed, and raised his hand to the bar surface. He started to tap his fingers against it.

“I don’t know. I’m doing things I wouldn’t do for other patrons. Taking risks I shouldn’t,” Donghyuck’s fingers stilled. He looked away, unable to hold Doyoung’s eye, “I think about him too much. Even – even while I’m with other patrons.”

“That’s… concerning.”

Donghyuck’s eyes flicked back to Doyoung. He looked worried, and his worry felt like a confirmation of Donghyuck’s own fears and anxieties.

“I know,” he exhaled, “So what should I do about it? Has this ever happened to you before?”

Doyoung’s shoulders dropped.

“Of course it has,” he said, hushed.

Donghyuck’s world seemed to tilt at the axis. He blinked at Doyoung, reconsidering so much he had thought about him. He’d thought all the older members were perfect when it came to these things, to the world of patrons. Someone like Doyoung making the same mistake as him, letting things get too far, was unsettling. 

It gave Donghyuck pause, though. It was unsettling but, at the same time, it soothed the knot of worry within him. He wasn’t the only one who’d ever felt this way, then. 

“But it shouldn’t have,” Doyoung said, voice hardened. He shook his head, his eyes getting sharper, more intense. 

“Haechan, there’s something you need to remember about patrons. This is going to sound harsh but… I need to remind you. Not a single one of them actually knows us.”

Donghyuck inhaled, his throat tight. 

“We’re just a fantasy to them. Fantasies don’t have feelings or thoughts of their own. They don’t have bad days or moments where they’re not kind, or perfect, or loving. Fantasies are for the patron, and only for the patron,” Doyoung shook his head and, when he next spoke, his tone had softened, “Don’t fall for someone who doesn’t care about you beyond your role in their fantasies. You’ll only get hurt.”

Donghyuck nodded, unable to come up with a reply. He hesitated, then dropped his head. His eyes went to his phone. He stayed in the seat as Doyoung paused, then walked forward. Doyoung clapped him on the shoulder, offering a slight squeeze. He then wished him goodnight, and carried on.

It was a bad idea to like a patron, then, Donghyuck thought. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know but… he sighed. 

What kind of a shitty fantasy was he for Mark, if all he did was make fun of him and drink his expensive liquor? He’d tried to be the perfect fantasy for Mark. He’d tried it and he’d failed. He didn’t know what he was doing with Mark, but it didn’t feel like the kind of situation Doyoung had described.

He didn’t know if he was delusional, if some part of him was far too hopeful, but he couldn’t help but think that Doyoung’s reason to not like patrons didn’t apply to Mark Lee.

He’d keep it in mind, he thought. But, in the meantime, he’d seek out other advice. 

 

– 

 

“Oh, this is good. This is… well, I’d say unexpected, but if you’re having problems, of course you’d come to me. Ask away, I’m sure I’ll be able to solve your troubles.”

Ten was having too much fun. Donghyuck already regretted seeking him out, but he was the best alternative. He gave advice whether Donghyuck wanted it or not. He’d come to mind first when Donghyuck had decided he needed another opinion.

“I’m only here because Doyoung’s advice wasn’t applicable,” Donghyuck scowled. 

He moved from where he was standing in the doorway, walking in to Ten and Doyoung’s shared room. After a moment of deliberation, he pulled the chair from Ten’s desk over by where Ten was seated on his bed. 

Ten’s expression shifted to an offended pout.

“I’m the backup plan?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck sighed, sliding into the chair, spreading his legs, “Pretty much. So, you going to help me? Or should I go back and try again with Doyoung?”

Ten shot up, shaking his head vehemently.

“No, no. I’m all ears. What’s got you down, kid?”

Donghyuck’s lip curled at the address but he let it pass without comment. Ten was willing to help him, after all. He asked Ten the same question he’d asked Doyoung, outright, questioning if he’d ever liked a patron before. 

“Huh,” Ten crossed his legs and surveyed Donghyuck, thoughtful, “So, you've got a crush?”

Donghyuck reminded himself that he was here for Ten’s help. He wouldn’t leave without it. He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself.

He opened his eyes.

“I might like one of my patrons. That’s all. I’m wondering how I can deal with it.”

Ten rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his hands. He peered at Donghyuck, his gaze curious.

“Why do you have to deal with it at all?”

Donghyuck frowned. This wasn’t going the way it had gone before, not at all – but of course it wouldn’t. Doyoung and Ten were on opposite ends of the spectrum in every way, of course this matter would be no exception.

“It’s annoying. Also, it’s not like it’s going to end well, right?”

Ten hummed in acknowledgement.

“Maybe… but who cares about that?” Ten exhaled, rising up, a smile spreading across his face, “Let me tell you something, Haech. I’ve fallen in love with more of my patrons than I can count.”

Donghyuck didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know if Ten was joking or not. From the look on his face, he had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t.

“Come again?”

“Don’t act so surprised! The patrons love us _so_ much… it’s only natural to love them back. They adore us with everything they have. Think about how much money they spend just to get close to us.”

It still wasn’t clicking for Donghyuck. He shook his head, more to clear it than to disagree. 

“If that’s not love,” Ten gestured with his hands as he came to his point, “I don’t know what is.”

_It isn’t_ , Donghyuck thought immediately, then questioned why. He frowned. When he thought about his problem with that, it came down to the way he was treated. The way some of his patrons treated him, as though he was nothing more than a living, breathing cardboard cutout of their favorite idol, the way he was expected to just stand there and say whatever stock phrases they expected Haechan to say… he’d never call that love. 

Mark didn’t treat him like that, though, a small voice in the back of his head said. There might not have been any of the obvious adoration that Ten had spoken of, but that meant there wasn’t any of the misplaced feelings that Doyoung had mentioned either, right?

Donghyuck’s head was starting to ache. One thing, at least, was clear.

“So… it’s alright to let myself feel things about him?”

“Exactly! Fall for him. Have some fun, for once,” Ten grinned, “You’d better tell me about this guy eventually. Like, I’m already expecting a _lot._ He’d better be damn near perfect. Oh, are you his first idol? That would be cute…”

Donghyuck sat still, letting Ten go on. 

Ten’s advice didn’t sound like it suited the situation either. It seemed insane, the idea that Mark might have those kinds of feelings for him. Mark wouldn’t even kiss him. Donghyuck thanked Ten all the same, and walked from his room feeling even more confused than before. 

There was a certain appeal in Ten’s view. Donghyuck sighed, and glanced back over his shoulder. He wanted Ten to be right, he realized. He wanted it to be alright, how he felt about Mark. He didn’t know about love but giving in, surrendering, not fighting… whatever the unnameable feeling he had that twisted his stomach in knots whenever he saw Mark… that didn’t sound so bad. 

Donghyuck stopped himself before he was about to walk into his room. He shook his head. He could keep himself guarded. He could try and protect himself. Donghyuck decided that, though he might have held a certain desire for Mark, he’d never let himself get as far as Ten had. He’d never fall for a patron. Not if he could help it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an argument leads to unexpected honesty

Johnny tried to put his foot down when Donghyuck said he was alright with meeting with patrons the day before the group’s first comeback stage. Donghyuck wished Johnny wouldn’t have, though. He wanted to see Mark, and that was the only way. Johnny’s sudden concern for him was touching, or it might have been, if it wasn’t so aggravating.

“I’m going to be fine, oh my God,” Donghyuck sighed, “It’s Mark Lee, anyways. It’s hardly tiring to go to his meetings. We just talk the whole time.”

Johnny looked displeased, if the set of his brow was anything to go by. He even shook his head but, in the end, they both knew that the company would prefer Donghyuck to go on the meeting and bring in another small fortune. He gave in. 

“Whatever you say, Haechan.”

 

Donghyuck almost regretted pushing Johnny for it, though. His stomach twisted with nerves on the elevator ride up to Mark’s room. He felt more nervous than he usually felt with every patron who wasn’t Mark. He felt more nervous than he’d felt with Mark even, in the past. 

It would be his first time seeing Mark since he’d tried to kiss him, and failed. His first time seeing Mark since he’d realized he’d liked him. His first time seeing him in the flesh, after he’d let himself imagine that another patron was him. 

Guilt and fear and anxiety were just as exhausting as any physical exertion, he found himself thinking. His breaths threatened to come short and shallow, as though he’d just finished up hours of work in the practice room. 

He looked himself over in the metal elevator doors. A loose black shirt tucked into tight black jeans. Tan skin and blond hair that fell over his brow. The imperfectly reflective surface of the doors reduced him to smudged over streaks of color, and he couldn’t see the expression he was making. He couldn’t tell if he was concealing or failing to conceal the thoughts going through his head. He exhaled. 

That was comforting, in a way, simply not knowing. It wasn’t liberating, but it did soothe him enough to ease the twist in his stomach, to loose the knot. That ease lasted all the way until the doors slid open and he walked and walked and found himself in front of the door to Mark’s room. 

Then he knocked, and the door opened, and Mark was bright and smiling. It was as though seeing Donghyuck was the best thing that could have happened to him, as though it could be the highlight of his day, even.

“Haechan! I’m so glad you were able to meet me today,” Mark said, and the twisting feeling in Donghyuck’s stomach returned in full force. 

He drew into the room, unable not to note the slight subtle scent of Mark’s cologne as he walked by him. Mark’s cologne was fresh and light, clean like freshly laundered linens. A feeling, at last definable, twisted within Donghyuck. The twinge of guilt was familiar, as Donghyuck was hit with a brief barrage of memories of a night with another patron, not Mark, a man with roving hands and with cologne that was deep and spiced.

He exhaled, then turned, pasting on a smile.

“I always have time for you,” he said. 

He faltered right after. It was what he would have said for any other patron, so it had just come out automatically. Make them feel special, it was what they’d been taught. But the difference was that he actually had made time for Mark. Nothing he’d said was false. 

Mark didn’t notice him faltering. He laughed and raised his hand and scratched the back of his head, sheepish. 

They weren’t going anywhere special that day, their fourth date. When Donghyuck let Mark know about his group's performance the next day, in the morning just after dawn, Mark had suggested they stay in the hotel and just have a night in. From anyone else, it would’ve sounded like an innuendo, an invitation for more. From Mark, it meant exactly what was said.

Donghyuck flopped onto the bed and snorted at Mark when he hesitated, clearly thinking Donghyuck was trying something again.

“Hey, can you hand me the remote?” Donghyuck asked, crossing one ankle over the other. When Mark just looked at him blankly, like he hadn’t quite heard him right, he gestured for him to get a move on, “Hurry up, will you? We can fit in two movies if we get started right away.”

A broad grin broke out across Mark’s face.

“Oh, right,” he said, and Donghyuck’s stomach twisted at how relieved he looked. Was it really such a relief to Mark that they’d just be watching movies all night? 

“I’m ordering room service, so start thinking about what you want to get,” Mark said, after he’d swung his legs up on the bed, and was lying by Donghyuck.  Thankfully, Mark hadn’t seemed to notice how Donghyuck’s breath had hitched when he’d joined him on the bed .

Though the movie Mark had picked for them was playing, it was easy to forget the softly unfolding drama on screen. Donghyuck’s focus was pointed elsewhere. 

The lights were dim, and Donghyuck had pressed close to Mark to read the room service menu along with him. He could feel Mark’s heat through their shirts. He could smell his cologne. 

When Donghyuck glanced up to Mark's face, he was close enough that he could discern all the minute details of it, the subtle imperfections.  The movie’s color palette was all light greens and rich fuchsias, springtime colors that splashed Mark’s face in vivid hues. Donghyuck held his breath while he stole a furtive look, then glanced back down before he might be caught. 

Mark scrolled through the options, speaking in a careful, hushed tone when he asked Donghyuck if he thought something looked good, as if Donghyuck was paying any attention to the movie at all. Donghyuck nodded, letting Mark pick whatever, vetoing something when it was too heavy or salty. He had to monitor what he ate this close to the comeback.

There was a moment, a pause, when Mark had set the tablet with the menu aside and Donghyuck had no real reason to be resting on Mark’s shoulder any longer. He wanted to stay there, despite that. He wished Mark would let him. 

He glanced up, checking Mark’s face, gauging his reaction. Mark was watching the movie, not looking at Donghyuck. Just then, though, he glanced back down. Their eyes met and suddenly Donghyuck couldn’t move or stay without saying something.

“Is this alright?” he asked, at last. 

In the pause that followed, he prepared himself for another rejection. It didn’t come, though. 

“Yeah,” Mark exhaled, glancing back towards the television. He began to worry his lower lip with his teeth, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Mark had picked a romance, the idiot. Every time the lead laid eyes on the man she was inevitably going to love, the whole shot would go softer, as if a gauzy filter had been applied. She’d smile, and she’d wave. They’d be in a park, or in a market. It was always daylight, always sunny. It was all so stupid, especially how she wrung her hands over liking him. She had no real reason to regret falling for him. So he had a bit of a reputation as a playboy, so he flirted a bit too brazenly. Donghyuck wished it could be that straightforward.

He was starting to get a crick in his neck, resting on Mark’s shoulder. He glanced up, wondering if he could adjust his position, or if Mark might suddenly remember that he didn’t want Donghyuck anywhere near him in the seconds in between.

Mark was frowning at what was happening on screen. He seemed genuinely upset that the lead was considering not letting the playboy pursue her. Donghyuck felt a corner of his mouth quirk up. He wanted to tell Mark he really didn’t need to worry, that of course she’d let him. It was a romance, after all. They always ended up together in romances. He stayed quiet, though. An idea had occurred to him.

While Mark was distracted by the movie, he glanced down. Mark was resting his hand on his stomach, right atop the end of his tie. It was almost too easy for Donghyuck to reach out. So ridiculously easy, to just coax his hand between Mark’s hand and his tie, to intertwine their fingers. He shifted their interlocked hands so they lay in between their bodies, then looked up, again watching for Mark’s reaction. 

“Alright?” he asked, again.

Mark had already looked to him. His lip was once again caught between his teeth.

“Um,” he hesitated, then nodded, “Yeah. Sure, I don’t mind.”

Mark looked away as Donghyuck’s eyes narrowed on him. Mark was so… inscrutable. Even this didn’t make sense. It was hard to tell with the fuchsias and greens painted on his features, but Donghyuck could have sworn Mark’s cheeks looked ruddier. He looked as though he was blushing.

Donghyuck looked down at their hands. Mark’s hand was warm and soft, and he held onto Donghyuck’s hand like it was delicate, like it was made of glass. Donghyuck paused, unsure. He knew what he wanted to ask. His lips wouldn’t part, though. His heartbeat started to quicken.

“That night on the rooftop...” Donghyuck began. He stopped. He had to quell the sudden, alluring desire to shake his head and ask Mark to forget it. He pushed on. 

“I almost kissed you.”

 Mark was so still. If he wasn’t so warm, he could have been made of stone. Even his hand had tensed.

There was a long moment where Donghyuck was left waiting, breath bated.

At last, Mark spoke.

“I know,” he said, quiet.

Oh, Donghyuck thought. That stalled him. He’d been expecting Mark to deny, or to deflect. But that wasn’t like Mark, was it? 

He watched their hands, the lights flashing across them, the shifting, changing colors.

“Why wasn’t that alright?”

The question hung in the air. 

The heavy feeling in Donghyuck’s chest that had appeared that night, that hadn’t quite gone away sense, took an edge. Without saying anything, Mark withdrew his hand from Donghyuck’s. Donghyuck was motionless for a second, then his breath hitched. He glanced up to Mark, drawing off from his shoulder to look at him. He was trying not to panic but his heart was beating quicker still and his chest – God, but his chest felt off. 

And Mark was just sitting there. Not looking at him. Not looking anywhere, really. His eyes were directed at the TV screen but his gaze was distant, troubled. He was unreadable, unreachable. Moreover, he wasn’t answering Donghyuck’s question. 

Donghyuck exhaled a long, even breath. 

“We’ve been on enough dates,” he said, keeping his voice measured. He wanted the words the land with enough impact to draw Mark’s eyes back to him, “By now, most patrons would have – “

Mark’s expression only shifted minutely, but it was enough to leave the rest of Donghyuck’s words stuck in his mouth. It was unlike any emotion Donghyuck had ever seen on Mark’s face before. A tendon jumped in Mark’s jaw. He looked at Donghyuck, at last. He looked… mad, Donghyuck thought. Why was he mad? 

“They’re not exactly dates.”

No. Not mad. Donghyuck felt his heart clench. He was upset. He wasn’t making any sense either. 

Donghyuck frowned, too confused to bother keeping his feelings from playing out on his face. 

“Maybe not technically...”

“They’re not dates, Haechan,” Mark’s voice was harsh, discordant. 

Donghyuck blinked at him, unsure how this could have all gone so wrong so quickly. Mark was staring at Donghyuck, his brows low, his mouth set in a line. Then, just as Donghyuck began to worry that maybe he’d gotten it wrong, that maybe Mark was angry after all, Mark’s demeanor changed. He seemed to spot something in Donghyuck’s expression that made it all shift in an instant. His shoulders fell, and he sighed.

“I’m paying your company for three hours with you, the same as all your other…” Mark trailed off. His lips flattened, “The same as everyone else. That’s not a date.”

Donghyuck sat very, very still. He was all at once acutely aware that somewhere along the way, he’d tricked himself, and he hadn’t tricked Mark. 

“What is it, then?” he asked. He didn’t like how uneven his voice sounded. He frowned, cleared his throat. When he spoke, he kept his voice strong, “What is this?”

Mark looked at Donghyuck with a strange mix of pity and confusion. Donghyuck looked down, away from Mark and his pity. He glanced to a far corner of the bedspread, its white fabric splashed with vibrant colors in distorted shapes. He watched them shift and move, telling a story without any real definition.

“I know what I wish this was,” Mark said, voice careful, “I don’t know what you want, though.”

What he wanted… Donghyuck knew what he could have done, in answer to that. He knew what he would have said, weeks and months ago. He could say he wanted whatever Mark wanted. That was what he should say. Please the patron, the first and foremost rule.

He closed his eyes. He exhaled. He knew he should have said that, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The thought of using a stock company line on Mark just felt wrong, for reasons he couldn’t quite define. The words stuck in his throat. 

When no response from Donghyuck came, Mark spoke once more.

“I don’t get you,” Mark said. His voice had softened, “But I’m trying to. I want to understand you.”

“Why?” Donghyuck blurted out, unthinking. He opened his eyes. He just didn’t get why it  _ mattered,  _ why Mark needed all that just to kiss him back.

“'Why?'” Mark repeated, face blank. His eyes flitted over Donghyuck like he couldn’t quite believe him.

“I like you, Haechan.” 

Donghyuck froze.  _ What?  _

“I’m sorry I couldn’t kiss you back. I’m not going to do anything like that with you. I can’t. Not until I know you feel the same way.”

_ Oh, _ Donghyuck thought, his breath hitching. He parted his lips, but only silence followed. 

He thought back to what Mark had said on the rooftop, where he’d mentioned he used to go to get away. All the secrets he had to keep, the feelings he could never act on, the relationships he’d never had the chance to have. 

It had never been about becoming a patron for Mark, for all that he’d let Donghyuck believe that. It had never been about seducing Haechan for him, had it? 

Donghyuck realized it was something much simpler, something that left a tight, nameless, feeling clawing its way up his throat, causing him to go silent. Mark was just a man with a burgeoning crush and, to Mark, Donghyuck was just like him. Not an idol. A person, someone he might try to like, and to be liked by in turn. 

“I do,” he said, too quiet. Still, Mark heard him. He looked up at Donghyuck, his gaze assessing. Donghyuck curled his fingers in the bedspread, clutching the fabric, “I do feel the same. I like you too.”

Mark’s eyes were wide, unsure. Of all the things he’d thought Donghyuck would say in the wake of his confession, it seemed he hadn’t anticipated this. 

Suddenly, he swore. He looked away, his brow drawing low above his eyes.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend, not about this.”

Donghyuck flinched.

Oh, he thought again. Right. 

Had there ever been a moment where he hadn’t been pretending around Mark? He did like Mark, but had there ever been a moment where he had been completely honest with him? All Mark knew was all the different ways Donghyuck had acted around him, all the different faces Donghyuck had shown him. As far as Mark knew, Donghyuck’s confession could have just been a desperate bid to ensure another meeting, another paycheck. 

He thought about what Ten had said, what Doyoung had said. He thought about what Mark had said earlier – that this didn’t feel like a date to him, not at all. He wondered if Mark would ever truly believe him while things remained this way. While, at the end of the day, Mark was still his patron, and Donghyuck was nothing more than his idol.

Donghyuck’s gaze fell from Mark’s, falling back to the color-splashed bedspread. He heard Mark’s breathing, low and even. He heard his own heartbeat, hurried. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t see each other like this anymore.”

A beat. 

“What?”

 Mark’s voice was smaller than Donghyuck had ever heard it. Donghyuck looked up to him, only then realizing how that must have sounded.

“I only meant... maybe we should try another kind of date. A real one,” Donghyuck heard his voice as he was a spectator in the room, as he spoke without calculating, without weighing every word, “I think I want to see you outside of patron meetings. How does that sound?” 

 

Donghyuck’s heart was still racing when he joined Johnny in the car after the meeting with Mark. His last meeting with Mark, maybe, if things worked out. He was feeling all the sensations that came with nerves, the kind of anxiety associated with performances and meetings with new patrons. But he felt lighter, he felt eager. He felt nervous, but in a good way. His palms weren’t sweating, and his chest didn’t feel heavy. 

Mark had agreed. He’d been so happy about the idea, too. He’d smiled from the moment Donghyuck had suggested it. They’d agreed to try a real date, and then they’d started in on discussing when they could possibly meet up, and how. The when soon proved impossible, with all of Donghyuck’s schedules, and all of Mark’s social obligations. The how was somehow even more elusive, with Donghyuck rarely having any time alone. He was always in the presence of either Johnny or his members, always watched over. 

They’d dropped the subject when their ideas began to dwindle, collectively deciding to figure it out later. They tried to just enjoy themselves for, picking over room service food and half-watching the movie for the rest of the meeting. Their last meeting. Donghyuck bit down a smile that threatened to rise to his face and glanced away from Johnny, looking out of the car window into the dark city beyond. 

“How did it go?”

“I’d say it went well,” Donghyuck said, taking care not to let his smile slip into his voice. He saw Johnny pause out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t dare turn to catch his expression.

Johnny noted something on his phone.

“Do you think he’ll purchase another meeting?”

_ No.  _ Donghyuck closed his eyes, feigning exhaustion so the conversation wouldn’t carry on and he wouldn’t run the risk of raising Johnny’s suspicions.

“Maybe,” he leaned against the window, making a show of making himself comfortable, “He seemed to like how tonight turned out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys have been leaving a lot of comments about how confusing mark is... i hope this chapter helped a little with that !


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when nct's performances fall short, donghyuck blames himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bg info: music shows are bigger in gemini-verse than they are in our world. everyone watches them. also, in gemini-verse, the quality of the performance given actually matters towards the final vote count lol
> 
> also i'm sorry in advance for the amount of texting and phone calls in this chapter..

The day of their first comeback stage, Donghyuck felt an anxiety unlike any he’d felt before. It all had to go perfectly. Every single note, every single step, every single look into a camera lens. It felt like it had gone perfectly, at first. Donghyuck felt… not good, exactly, but _satisfied_ with his performance.

He knew he’d been everything he was expected to be. He knew he’d executed everything just right, that he’d nailed the movements, that he’d made perfect eye contact with every camera pointed his way. For previous comebacks, he’d played up his image by injecting cute asides and bright comments into his ments. This time, he’d used charming words on the crowd, to a warm reception. His voice had been stable, his pitch perfect.

He’d even allowed himself to relax. He cracked a smile upon watching the playthrough of their performance backstage. He felt his lip corners curl up as Ten whistled, low, following the replay of his solo dance part. 

“Haechan, that was amazing,” Taeyong said, earnest, his eyes wide. 

Donghyuck relished in the small feeling of pride Taeyong’s praise gave him. He ducked his head, though, and turned the compliment back towards the rest of the group.

He felt satisfied, for a spell. 

But none of that mattered. None of it counted in the end. Their comeback had happened to coincide with Jungwoo’s, and Jungwoo had won the first place in the music show by a landslide, sweeping every category for the win. Donghyuck watched Jungwoo receive the first place award from the side of the stage, a hollow feeling within him. 

Jungwoo’s hair was blond now. It was a change from his signature red hue, the one Donghyuck had grown used to in all the videos he’d bookmarked for reference when the company had first told him about his image shift. With his platinum hair, his height, and the gleaming award in his hands, Jungwoo stood out from the rest of them on the stage. He grinned small and sweet as they announced him as the winner, and NCT as second place. 

Second place felt a lot like losing, Donghyuck thought. He kept his expression in check as he watched confetti fall around a laughing Jungwoo, as he heard Jungwoo’s fans in the crowd going wild. 

Jungwoo had dominated the most in the live voting category. However they could spin the rest of the categories, that one stung the most. It meant their performance had fallen short. And Donghyuck, as the face of the song, of the comeback as a whole, could only find fault with himself.

His best still wasn’t good enough, it seemed.

 

After the second place ranking, the rest of the group seemed to be wary around him. They seemed to be unsure whether or not to approach him, and careful with their words when they did. They didn’t even seem to be concerned about their group falling short to Jungwoo for their own sakes. They just seemed to be looking to Donghyuck, constantly. 

In his head, he heard words whispered behind hands. He imagined the thoughts circling around their heads. That he wasn’t ready. That the company shouldn’t have given him as much responsibility as they had. That he was distracted, not giving it his all. That he was letting them down, and letting his dreams escape him. 

He carried himself as if he didn’t care. He kept his face neutral. When Taeyong asked where he’d like to go for dinner after their performance, Donghyuck shook his head. With a slight smile on his face, he told Taeyong he wouldn’t be grabbing dinner with them.

Instead, Donghyuck asked Johnny to take him to the company so he could use their practice room. 

Johnny only allowed him an hour and a half practice time, and only after a long back and forth discussion that nearly escalated to an argument. Donghyuck would take every minute of practice he was allowed, though. He’d take it all. He needed it, if he was to become perfect.

 

–

 

Mark texted him the next morning. Donghyuck was filing into the car along with the rest of the members, set for a meeting at the company in a lull between scheduled performances. He didn’t dare unlock his phone to reply, but he allowed himself a moment to look before he hid the message.

 

_from: mk_

_I saw a video of you and your group doing your new song._

 

Donghyuck exhaled, and slid his hand across the phone screen, hiding it. He was in a car with all his members and their managers. He couldn’t reply. 

A new message popped up.

 

_from: mk_

_It’s a really good song._

 

Donghyuck hid that one too. He was a little perturbed by that reaction, though. He didn’t care what Mark thought about the song. A heat bloomed in his cheeks and he ducked his head. He cared what Mark had thought about _him_. 

A new message.

 

_from: mk_

_But that’s not what I meant to text you about! You were amazing, Haechan. Oh my God, your voice. Also, your dancing (...)_

 

Donghyuck pressed his lips together, swiping away the message. Mark’s text had gotten too long. He’d have to wait, he supposed, to find out what Mark had thought of his dancing. Donghyuck glanced back down at the dark screen. He wondered if that was the first time Mark had seen him perform. 

Donghyuck glanced up, thinking he’d felt the prickling sensation of eyes on him. No one was looking at him though. Everyone was either drifting off or occupied on their own phones. Donghyuck let out a breath, berating himself, as he took in the sight of his other members. 

He’d let himself get distracted. It didn’t matter so much at that moment, but he couldn’t let his thoughts stray once they stepped out of the car. He had to be focused for the meeting, and focused for practice, and focused for interviews and photoshoots and lives and selcas. He didn’t have time to wonder about Mark’s thoughts on his dancing. 

 

The meeting at the company was routine. They went over promotion schedules and what was expected of each of them. There wasn’t a moment where Donghyuck was taken aside and spoken to separately, as he’d feared there might be. 

At the end of the presentation they had been treated to, there was a cursory mention of patron meetings. The suit reminded them that, while promotions were meant to take up most of their energy, the company hoped that they would still have time to meet with patrons. Promotions were costly, after all, and they needed as much help as they could get to give their group the best promotions they could. The company wanted them to have no regrets when they were done promoting. They wanted the members to feel like they did everything they could to show off their best sides. 

It felt like a reprimand. Donghyuck felt the weighted, discomfiting sensation of guilt. He knew he wasn’t giving it his all. He knew, if he kept going as he was, he would be left feeling regret. He was the face of the comeback. He needed to work harder.

 

After an interview, in which Donghyuck had laughed and cracked jokes and clung close to Jaehyun for the cameras that flashed to capture candid moments throughout, they all went back to the practice room. They all practiced, straight faced and silent. 

Doyoung was the first to leave, his brow furrowed. He parted with only a goodbye, and Ten snorted as he left.

“He’s meeting with The Moustache today, I bet.”

Jaehyun laughed, but he was the only one. Donghyuck would have, normally. It wasn’t like it was actually funny. Doyoung hated the patron of his with the infamous wispy moustache that clung to his upper lip. He hated him so much he’d even complained of him once to Ten, and had regretted it ever since. It wasn’t funny, but what could they do but laugh?

As it was, though, Donghyuck just gave a distracted smile and then asked Ten if he could show him once more how a move was supposed to look. He wondered if he was straying too far from the initial choreography, and needed a reminder.

 

It was only when he lay in bed that night, Jaehyun softly snoring on the other side of the dorm room, that he finally let himself check Mark’s message.

 

_from: mk_

_But that’s not what I meant to text you about! You were amazing, Haechan. Oh my God, your voice. Also, your dancing was really good. I think? I don’t know anything about dancing haha I couldn’t look away from you, though._

 

Donghyuck smiled despite himself.

 

_to: mk_

_i’m more than really good, for the record_

 

Donghyuck deliberated for a moment. He wanted to say more. He wanted to send something to make up for making Mark wait. He also wanted to keep him distant. Less chance of distraction, that way. 

 

_to: mk_

_was that the first time you’ve seen me perform?_

 

Donghyuck told himself he wasn’t waiting for a reply, but instead of going directly to sleep, he tinkered around on his phone. He looked up the response to his group’s comeback and their promotions. As far as Donghyuck was concerned, every idol who said they didn’t look up what people were saying about them was a liar, or lying to themselves. 

People seemed to be taking well to him. There had been an article written just the day before about four idols who’d debuted in 2045 who were unrecognizable now, and he’d been included in the list. 

He frowned as he scrolled through the praise in the comments. So many of them talked about his body, how he moved, what they wished to do with him, to him. He wasn’t used to those kinds of comments about himself. 

He took it as confirmation that he’d at least showed the side of himself he wanted to show, even if he hadn’t done quite as well as he could have. He still had room to improve. He paused on a particular comment. _Is this really our maknae Haechan?_ it read. 

He felt satisfied. That was what he termed the strange, tight feeling in his chest. He was pleased, but a little overaware. Donghyuck smiled, though it felt as if it fit him strangely. He dropped it after a moment, exhaling, drawing his legs up to make himself smaller.  

At last, after twenty minutes, Donghyuck got the notification for another message from Mark. He didn’t quite drop his phone in his haste to answer, but it was a near thing.

 

_from: mk_

_Yeah, it was! I looked up more videos after, though. You’re really good :)_

_Wait. I meant more than really good haha sorry._

_You seem like a completely different person when you’re performing._

 

Donghyuck held his breath. He hadn’t thought of that.

 

_to: mk_

_is that good? or bad_

_from: mk_

_?_

_I don’t know what I’d call it._

_It’s fun to watch but then I remembered that this is the same guy who got drunk and looked like he was about to serenade the moon on a garbage covered rooftop._

 

Donghyuck rolled over to make sure his back was to Jaehyun, as a ghost of a smile tugged up the corners of his mouth.

 

_to: mk_

_you were drunker than me_

_you kept rambling_

_i think the moon would have welcomed a nice song after the ten minute rant you gave it about the best plate to order at chinese restaurants._

_from: mk_

_The moon needed to know :(_

_All of Seoul needed to know._

 

Before Donghyuck knew it, they’d been exchanging messages for more than an hour. He blinked when he realized the time. He didn’t know how he could even spend that long not realizing how much time was getting away from him. He should have fallen asleep when Jaehyun had. 

He was sure Mark had to wake up early the next morning too. And yet he was laughing at Donghyuck’s teasing. He was enthusing about the song still (the performance, but mostly the song, which had ceased to be so annoying for Donghyuck. He got the sense that talking about Donghyuck on stage wasn’t easy for Mark).

Donghyuck had resolved earlier that same day to be less distracted, though. Mark was the clearest source of his distraction. Donghyuck forced his eyes closed, reminded himself why he needed to focus so badly – that he and the company wanted nothing less than a first place win on a music show. He opened his eyes.

 

_to: mk_

_hey. i should probably go to sleep now_

_from: mk_

_Oh._

_Oh yeah it is getting pretty late._

 

He thought for a moment. He wanted to show Mark more. Share _more_ , somehow. It was an odd compulsion. He snapped a selca, the flash from his phone lighting up the room for a brief moment. 

Donghyuck had seen his face more than he ever really wanted to, in so many mirrors and screens and posters and album covers. He was always made up, always pristine. It was only in the barest hours of the morning, and in the waning hours of night, and in the practice rooms when he looked as he did then. Well, not quite as he looked then, in the picture. Seeing his bare face with a smile on it, a grin that was genuine and unpracticed and maybe a little crooked and imperfect... that was different.

Before he could overthink, Donghyuck sent the picture.

 

_to: mk_

_[image attachment]_

_gn mark_

 

Donghyuck waited, and waited. He hoped the wait meant he’d struck Mark dumb with his bare face. 

At last, Mark replied. He sent a picture back. A selca of his face, poorly angled. His eyes were bright, behind a pair of glasses that Donghyuck hadn’t known Mark owned. The flash exposed his uneven skin, the bags under his eyes, even a shadow of beard growth around his mouth. Mark was smiling back, though. Small and tired and interrupted by the peace sign he had stuck out for the camera.

 

_from: mk_

_[image attachment]_

_Haha goodnight!_

_to: mk_

_i’m begging you to let me teach you how to take a selca_

_you’re so lucky you’re hot_

_from: mk_

_Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?_

_Also. I’m both flattered and hurt :(_

_to: mk_

_:)_

 

_from: mk_

_…_

_:/_

_to: mk_

_:)_

_from: mk_

_Oh my God. Go to sleep._

_to: mk_

_not until you say it back :)_

_from: mk_

_…_

 

_…_

_…_

_Fine_

_:)_

 

Donghyuck snorted. He scrolled back up, wondering if Mark was smiling then, too. He clicked on the selca Mark had sent him. He told himself he was just curious about Mark. About what he was like when he wasn’t being Mark Lee, patron. 

Mark was wearing a t-shirt in the picture. A simple black one. He was sitting in bed, a warm yellow light indicating he had a lamp turned on just outside of the frame. He looked so… cozy. Comfortable. The screen went dark. Donghyuck breathed out. He put the phone down and tried not to fall asleep to thoughts of being there, by Mark’s side.  

 

–

 

They lost. Again. It was closer. There was less than a hundred live votes’ difference between them and Jungwoo, but they fell short. Again. 

Donghyuck grinned and clapped as Jungwoo blew kisses out at the crowd. His eyes strayed up to the final scores, projected above the heads of every idol onstage in a flickering blue. 

Only a few votes separated them and the number one spot. Donghyuck knew that the company would reward them if they won. Whether through improvements in their dorm, in their food, in their clothes. A win would be worth it. Above all, it would mean the company’s risk on him had been worth it. It would mean Donghyuck was a good center, and it would mean he’d get the chance to shine again. 

Donghyuck felt a hand clap onto his shoulder, and he only just managed not to jump. He glanced back. Doyoung had a practiced smile on his face. He wasn’t looking at Donghyuck, but his hand was firm, and he gave Donghyuck’s shoulder a squeeze. It was solid, comforting. 

Donghyuck’s head whipped back around, Doyoung’s touch a reminder that he’d been letting himself get lost in his thoughts. He waved to a cluster of fans in a corner, decked out in NCT’s official colors. They were ecstatic at they waved back.

He just had to work a little bit harder. If he just worked harder, and focused, things might just work out.

 

–

 

_from: mk_

_I saw your performance last night. I think you got even better, somehow?_

 

–

 

Donghyuck couldn’t help but feel he’d let his motivations shift. He only had so much energy. Anything that he wasn’t dedicating towards perfecting his performance, towards crafting a better version of Haechan to show to the cameras and to the fans, was a waste. 

He paused over Mark’s messages and hid them a moment later. He couldn’t delete them, but he couldn’t justify replying, either. 

 

–

 

_from: mk_

_Hendery keeps sending me videos of your group. I swear I laugh at everything the Ten guy says. Please tell me he’s as funny in person as he seems to be in interviews._

_Still a Haechan fan, though. No one’s taking your place anytime soon :)_

 

–

 

“Not more than an hour and a half, remember? And make sure you’re taking care to warm up and cool down properly.”

Donghyuck raised a brow at Johnny. He was mothering more than managing lately. But that was fine by Donghyuck. He could manage himself.

“Okay, sure. Warm up, cool down. Got it.” 

He shouldered his backpack. It was packed with a couple changes of clothes, and a few types of painkillers stashed away alongside lip tints and bb cream. Just the essentials, really.

Johnny gave him a look that lasted a few uneasy moments. Donghyuck glanced away to survey the rest of the company lobby. It was dead, just a few people there at the late hour. Eventually, he forced his gaze back. Johnny nodded, then shifted on his feet. Donghyuck took that as an indication that he was in the clear and nodded back. He offered a “See you soon”, then started towards the elevators.

When Donghyuck picked up his phone to find some music to play while he was practicing, he saw he had yet another message from Mark. It had been sent just a few minutes prior.

 

_from: mk_

_Should I be worried that you’re not answering?_

 

Donghyuck frowned. He paused to think, his fingers poised above the phone screen. He listed against the cart with the speaker system, calculating. He’d made himself not answer Mark, hoping it would take his mind off of him. Donghyuck sighed, short. He tapped his fingers against his thigh. 

He’d messed up. 

The company wanted him to perform well, of course they did. Not at the cost of harming his relationship with a patron, though. It was hard to tell over text, but Donghyuck imagined what might be going through Mark’s head at that moment. He sucked in a breath, a shaky one. 

 

_to: mk_

_no don’t worry_

_sorry_

_i’ve just been busy lately_

 

Donghyuck picked a song – a loud one, one he could drown his thoughts in – and started to warm up. When his phone lit up with a reply, he paused mid-stretch and reached for it.

 

_from: mk_

_Oh, right. That’s a relief_

_I was wondering if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing_

 

Donghyuck grinned, despite himself. He’d be remiss if he didn’t have second thoughts. Third thoughts. Fourth. Over and over again, thinking it through, doubting. 

 

_to: mk_

_what whole thing?_

_from: mk_

_Us?_

 

Donghyuck stared at the message. He wished he hadn’t asked. Once Mark had answered, he had to think about how Mark wasn’t a patron, not anymore. Not in that moment. The ‘us’ Mark was talking about was something different than the relationship between an idol and his patron. 

Donghyuck closed his eyes. He shouldn’t be talking to Mark. He had no excuse.

But then, he was dialing. And then, only a moment later, Mark had picked up.

_“Haechan?”_

Donghyuck inhaled, sharp. That name spoken in Mark’s voice was all it took to unleash a vault of feelings he’d tried not to let himself feel ever since that last meeting, ever since his group’s first loss. 

“Hey, Mark,” he wondered if his voice sounded as breathless to Mark as it sounded to himself, “So, you miss me, huh?”

_“That’s – I mean. Uh, hi. Hey. How are you doing?”_

Donghyuck’s lip corner twitched. Mark didn’t sound upset, and he found himself overly relieved at that. He sounded confused. It was almost comforting in its familiarity, his confusion. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Donghyuck paused. He glanced up, sneaking a look at himself in the practice room mirrors as he continued, “I miss you too.”

The thing was – Donghyuck couldn’t see any of his tells when he scanned his reflection. The thing was – he glanced back down. He’d spoken the truth. He was still getting used to that.

_“It’s been about a week since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?”_

Mark was smiling. Donghyuck could hear it in his voice. He nodded at first, unthinking. He snorted at himself, then confirmed aloud.

_“That’s a while. We’re not_ that _lame, really.”_

As Mark spoke, Donghyuck let his eyes fall closed. Unbidden, an image of Mark rose to his mind. It was late. He might have been in his place, wearing that black shirt Donghyuck had seen in the picture Mark had sent him. He might have been wearing those glasses.

“Totally,” he found himself agreeing, “Eight days is the tipping point. If you’d texted a day sooner, though… that would have been clingy. Definitely would have had to cut you off if you did that.”

_“Oh. Eight days? Really?”_

Mark sounded like he was holding back laughter. Donghyuck pressed his lips together, biting down on a smile. He hadn’t even realized he’d been counting the days. It was hard to keep little things from slipping out, the moment you started to tell the truth. 

“You know, give or take a few hours.” 

_“Of course. And, uh… how many days until we can meet up again?”_

A beat. Donghyuck was wondering how many performances they had left, how many they would have left if they continued to go on without a win. The company would cut their promotions off sooner. It’d be quicker, in that case. Donghyuck couldn’t allow himself to hope for that, though. 

Mark seemed to take Donghyuck’s silence poorly. When he spoke up again, his voice sounded less light, less on the verge of laughter.

_“Ah. Nevermind. So, how are – ?”_

“I do want to see you,” Donghyuck cut in, “These past few days, I’ve been… The promotions… They’re not going as well as they should be.”

Donghyuck’s mouth snapped shut. His gaze strayed to the little window in the practice room door. The hallway was empty beyond. Of course it was. This late at night, Donghyuck would be the only one in this part of the building. It was just… he was within the company’s property. It felt daring to speak of the company and its plans for him when he was inside its walls.

_“Really?”_ Mark’s voice sounded different. Donghyuck could imagine a frown on his face, _“How so?”_

So, without even really thinking about it, Donghyuck started to share. He started to speak some of what had been on his mind. It was easier, he supposed, unloading it over the phone. That didn’t mean it was easy, though. Not by a long shot. He wasn’t used to this sort of talking with others, the talking that meant speaking thoughts aloud as they occured to you, and not tailoring them for whoever might be listening. 

Mark was a good listener, though. He was quiet, except when he wasn’t. Whenever Donghyuck struggled to say something, Mark seemed to pick up on it. He asked a lot of questions, but only when Donghyuck’s voice faltered. He seemed confused when Donghyuck explained, which alleviated some of the tension in Donghyuck’s chest. He didn’t seem to get how things worked, at all. Donghyuck even laughed as he talked Mark through the basics of promoting that he’d learned four years ago. 

_“It’s unlucky that you had to promote at the same time as Jungwoo,”_ Mark put in, at last. 

Donghyuck shifted, attempting to find a more comfortable position. He was sitting on the ground, his back against the mirror. 

“You’re always promoting at the same time as someone else,” he frowned down at his sneakers, “There’s always someone better than you, and there’s always someone you have to try harder to beat.”

A pause. 

_“I might not really get this idol thing, but I get that… I get how it feels, to always feel like you’re chasing someone.”_

Donghyuck’s eyes fell closed. He dropped his head back against the mirror, cool against the crown of his head. Donghyuck wished he wasn’t hearing Mark’s voice filtered through a phone. He wished they could be together. 

“Do you?”

_“Oh, yeah. Everything here feels like a race. Who can hit their quotas the quickest, who can get the most hours out of their employees for the least pay. Who can buy the most expensive suit, the biggest ring for his girlfriend...”_

Donghyuck smiled.

“You’ve never bought me any jewelry.”

Mark’s laughter came out crystal clear through the phone’s speakers. 

_“Did you want jewelry?”_

“Not really,” Donghyuck adjusted his grip, pressing the phone closer, “Doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t be able to keep it anyways.”

_“What, really? Why?”_

Mark sounded unhappy all of a sudden. Donghyuck didn’t know how to answer that. It was just one of those things that was. He’d never wanted to keep anything from a patron before, so he’d never questioned it.

“Dunno,” he sniffed. Not wanting to invite further questions he didn’t have the answer to, he switched the topic, “What are you doing right now?”

_“Aside from talking to you? Well… it’s almost eleven, so nothing. If you hadn’t called, I’d probably be in bed right now.”_

“It’s almost eleven?” Donghyuck repeated. 

_Shit_ , he thought. His eyes flew open. He only had half an hour until Johnny would start bothering him to wrap it up. He hadn’t gotten in any practice at all.

_“Uh, yeah – .”_

“Ah. I gotta go. I need to practice.”

_“What? It’s eleven. Why are you – ?”_

“Bye, Mark.” 

As much as Donghyuck was cursing himself for letting the time slip by, he couldn’t blame Mark, not at all. He even smiled, distracted as he was, as he said, “I’ll try and message back quicker from now on, ‘kay? Don’t want you to miss me too much.”

_“Haechan.”_

Donghyuck froze. He held his breath, stilled by the tone of Mark’s voice. 

“Yeah?”

_“Just… good luck with your promotions. I hope you get first place. But also don’t push yourself too hard to make that happen, yeah? I’m sure your company values your health more than getting a win,”_ Mark paused. It sounded like he wanted to say something else. 

Instead, he laughed a tired laugh, _“And thanks. How thoughtful.”_

Donghyuck’s lip corner quirked higher. Mark was still desperately clueless about how things worked. 

“ _Bye,_ Mark,” he repeated, firmer, “Keep a look out for our next stage, alright? I’ll throw in a wink for you.”

Donghyuck pulled the phone away from his ear as Mark’s startled laughter sounded out through it. He hung up, then scrubbed his face with his hand. He quickly found the comeback track. Skipping the warm up to save time, he started to go through the song’s moves. 

In the mirror, his face was neutral. His expression was hard to read, even for himself. He frowned, then pulled his cap down lower. Once his face was in shadows, he resumed dancing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a moment in the practice room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about going missing for a few weeks there! please take this fluffy chapter that's been about forever in the making as an apology

After they lost a third time, the company must have had enough. They called them to come in directly from the music show recording. The group all piled into a van, their managers with them. The car ride to the company was silent. Ten didn’t even try and crack jokes. They just kept looking to Donghyuck. Glancing at him. 

He wanted to ask them what they were looking at. He wasn’t a ticking time bomb. He wasn’t about to explode. They didn’t need to tread so lightly around him. Out with it, he wanted to tell them. Say what you’re thinking. That it’s my fault, that I’m failing you. He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. 

But he didn’t need them to tell him that, he thought bitterly, as the van pulled into the company parking lot. The glass and steel structure of the company’s building stood imposing above their heads. He had the most lines. He had the killing part. He had an obligation, and he wasn’t cutting it. 

 

In a way, it was a relief when his suspicions as to who deserved the blame were confirmed. There was a suit waiting for them in one of the company’s glass-walled conference rooms and, when she stood up and began to speak, it became immediately apparent who the company blamed for the group’s lack of wins so far.

She spoke as if she was addressing everyone and she was, in a way. The rest of the group had to be there, so Donghyuck’s remonstration would be complete. They were the audience, as the suit indirectly chastised Donghyuck for not living up to the opportunity they’d gifted him.

“We know you can do better,” she said, her smile wide, her teeth bared, “We know you have more to show your fans. Don’t hold back.”

Donghyuck inhaled, sharp. The members didn’t look at him. He wished they would. He wished they’d glare. He glanced down, his fingers tensing atop his thigh. He nodded. 

“I’ll do better,” he promised the suit. He’d waited until the end of the meeting to say it, when the rest of the members were gathering their things and readying to leave. They’d overhear, unfortunately. Some things couldn’t be helped.

“Yes,” she said, her voice overwarm, a touch too friendly. 

“We know you will.”

Donghyuck watched her go. The sound of her stiletto heels clicked on the concrete floor, the only sound in the room aside from the hushed conversation of his colleagues and the pounding of his heart.

 

“Haechan…” 

Taeyong pulled Donghyuck aside once they’d entered the dorm. Donghyuck crossed his arms over his chest but otherwise said and did nothing to protest. He had been waiting for this.

“Yes? What is it?”

He held his breath, waiting for the blow. It would come, and it would land softly when it did. He trusted Taeyong would soften it for him. He waited. 

It didn’t come, though. 

Taeyong let out a sigh, short.

“They’re wrong to blame you for this, you know.”

Donghyuck blinked at Taeyong. He didn’t know what to say, how to respond. Just how untouchable was Taeyong, he wondered, to be able to admit openly that the company could be wrong about something. Could do wrong.

“Are they?” Donghyuck asked, when he regained control of his speech. He shook his head, “We’ve won before, Taeyong. We’ve won every comeback that you’ve led for the past – what? Two years?”

Taeyong frowned. Though Taeyong wasn’t a hulking figure by any means – he stood about as tall as Donghyuck, and had a slighter frame – Donghyuck felt small when Taeyong looked at him like that.

“Yeah, we always win eventually,” Taeyong’s brows were low. Commenters and news outlets would mistake this expression of his as cold, but Donghyuck knew it to be one of concern, “So don’t beat yourself up, okay? We’ll get at least one. They’re focusing on you, but all of us are on the stage for the show, right? You’re not alone out there.”

Donghyuck couldn’t see where Taeyong was getting his optimism. He swallowed his disagreement, though, and forced himself to be content with just a:

“I guess.”

 “You’ll see,” Taeyong let a smile spread across his face. Encouraging. Donghyuck set his mouth and nodded, his stomach twisting. Something about Taeyong’s surety made Donghyuck almost believe him.  

 

–

 

_from: mk_

_Hey. I saw the performance._

 

Donghyuck frowned down at his phone. He glanced up. Johnny was completely engaged in whatever he was doing on his phone – composing messages, checking schedules, reaching out to the company. He didn’t dare text Mark back right under Johnny’s nose, though, no matter how distracted he looked.

 

_from: mk_

_Are you free tonight?_

 

Shit, he thought. 

He had to text Mark back. He stole another furtive glance at Johnny, ensuring he was still buried deep in his phone, then glanced back down. 

 

_to: mk_

_you’re really into watching me dance huh_

 

_sorry to let you down but i have other plans this evening. i’ll have to take a raincheck ;)_

 

_from: mk_

_What?_

 

_I saw that you got second again. I wanted to make sure you’re doing alright._

 

_Are those other plans practicing?_

 

Shit. Donghyuck exhaled, stealing another look up at Johnny. Still as occupied as ever. He slid his palms along the tops of his thighs. They were starting to feel clammy.

 

_to: mk_

_am i that predictable?_

 

_from: mk_

_You? Never. Lucky guess on my part haha_

 

_Can I drop by tonight, then?_

 

Donghyuck let out a choked off sound. His gaze shot up and he felt a chill travel down his spine when his eyes met Johnny’s. Johnny was looking at him, eyes narrowed. Donghyuck made a face. All the while, his mind was spinning. Mark couldn’t just casually ask something like that. But he had. 

How was Donghyuck meant to respond? He wanted to say yes. God, he wanted to say yes. 

After seconds that felt as though they could have been half an hour at least, Johnny quirked a brow at him and left it at that, looking back down to his phone. Donghyuck allowed himself a few moments to try and calm his quickening heartbeat before responding.

 

_to: mk_

_only if you find a way to turn invisible by then_

 

_our practice rooms are in our company’s building. you’d have to sneak in._

 

_also i’m going to be lousy entertainment. i’m just going to ignore you the whole time you’re here_

 

_from: mk_

_I can be sneaky! And being ignored sounds nice actually._

 

Donghyuck rested his face in his hand, pressing his lips to his palm, stifling the smile that threatened to escape. 

 

_to: mk_

_tell me that’s not a kink of yours_

 

_from: mk_

_Oh my God_

 

_It’s not._

 

_to: mk_

_hey, no shame. i’ll indulge you_

 

_you can come visit. i’d be happy to ignore you :)_

 

Donghyuck looked up. His heartbeat felt fluttery, too quick, too light. Johnny was looking at him now, staring. His eyes were narrowed. Donghyuck blinked at him, slow and careful.

“What?” he asked, perfectly innocent.

The corners of Johnny’s mouth tugged down into a frown. Donghyuck looked away from Johnny’s frown, glancing out the window. He pressed his lips together. Between Taeyong’s reassurances, and the promise of seeing Mark later, he was suddenly able to push his shoulders back and raise his head for the first time since the company had called the group in. 

 

Donghyuck didn’t know how well he’d be able to focus with the thought of actually getting to see Mark again in person looming over him. He tried, though. He said goodbye to Johnny, acting no differently from normal, though inside of him was a jumble of different desires and feelings. 

He changed and headed to the practice room. He picked a song, a slow one, soft. While he warmed up, his eyes darted continually to his phone. He told himself to be patient as he waited for it to light up. 

He’d told Mark how to get in. He would be able to walk in through the front doors. As late as it was, the company continually left at least them open for employees who might be working late. Idols, trainees, production crews, marketing staff, and analysts. There was a reason the cafe in the company lobby was open around the clock and Johnny could get his Americano at any hour of the day. 

Donghyuck glanced up at his phone once more, mid-move, his leg outstretched. He rose, swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, and frowned. 

Maybe he should be waiting in the company lobby. He’d thought it would have been too risky to meet up with Mark there, where anyone might see them, where there would no doubt be security cameras. Donghyuck’s fingers twitched, and he pulled them in. He moved back into position. He could wait a little longer yet.

Just then, there was a knock at the practice room door. Donghyuck gasped in a breath of air, as a force he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge he’d felt released its tight grip on his lungs. He turned. In the small window embedded in the practice room door, he could see the very top of a head of black hair. Before he knew it, a smile was breaking out across his face.

“Mark,” he greeted, in a hushed voice, as he opened the door, “You got in alright.” 

Mark stood on the other side, grinning back at Donghyuck. It had been two weeks since Donghyuck had seen Mark’s smile, and he felt every day of that lack. 

“You sound so surprised. I told you I could be sneaky.”

Donghyuck’s smile twitched higher. He curled his fingers around Mark’s wrist, his little finger brushing against the cool metal of Mark’s watch, and pulled him into the room. He shut the practice room door as softly as he could, and tried not examine the flutter he felt in his chest when he realized that Mark was in their practice room. _His_ practice room. Donghyuck doubted even letting Mark into his room in the dorm would feel quite as intimate as this. 

 

Donghyuck grinned while listening to Mark recount how he’d snuck in, how covert he’d been (hardly at all, but it didn’t worry Donghyuck. Anyone seeing Mark in his business clothes would assume he was just another company employee. It was only seeing him with Donghyuck that would put them at risk). 

Half his mind was occupied, though. He kept stealing glances at Mark, where he was leaned up against the mirrored wall at the far side of the practice room, wondering if this at last counted as a date. 

Mark’s sole requirement for a date had been them spending time together outside of a patron meeting. By that standard, this could be a date. Donghyuck marvelled at that, as he handed Mark his phone, allowing him to pick a song while Donghyuck continued with his warm up. It didn’t feel like a date. He was sweaty. He was wearing workout clothes and a cap. He was ignoring Mark. Or, at least, he was trying to. 

It was hard to ignore Mark. 

When Donghyuck started to run through the choreography for the title song, he asked Mark to pause the music for him. It was quiet in the room, aside from the squeaking of his sneakers against the waxed wooden floor. To him, the quiet hitching of his breath and the quick beat of his heart felt thunderous. He felt Mark’s gaze on him. His movements felt stiff, awkward. He kept his gaze trained low, not looking in the mirror, fearing meeting Mark’s eye.

“Are you nervous?” Mark asked. Though his question was hushed it was still jarring when spoken into the silence.

Donghyuck froze. He looked up. Mark was frowning, his arms crossed over his chest.

“No,” His heart was beating too quick. Why was it beating so quick? “Why would I be nervous?”

Mark’s brows drew lower still.

“Just imagine I’m not here.”

But, as much as he tried, that proved impossible. If Mark constantly strayed into Donghyuck’s thoughts while he was away, he never left them while he was within sight. 

Donghyuck felt like he was onstage, as though there was a single spotlight, as bright as the sun, pointed on him. The music playing through the practice room speakers sounded tinny, far off. His movements, as practiced as they were, came to him slow and sluggish. It was as though he was a trainee again, only a few weeks deep in dancing lessons.

So, at last, he just gave in. Donghyuck looked up from the practice room floor. He took his cap off. He let himself look at Mark, instead of fighting the draw.

“Hey,” he said, “Restart the song. I want to try something.”

When Mark started the song over again, Donghyuck allowed him to flood his thoughts. It was like a dam had burst, like a deluge, flowing free. When he started to dance again, he wasn’t focused on getting each movement down exactly as he’d practiced. He wasn’t thinking of crowds of faceless, screaming fans. His coherent thoughts were on Mark. 

He felt the song flow through him. For once since he’d learned of his new image, he wasn’t thinking of the most sensual movement he could make in any given moment. He wasn’t thinking of the one extension that would leave patrons and fans salivating. He just danced. He monitored Mark’s reactions with half his mind, but he wasn’t preoccupied with them. 

As he moved, as he felt himself slide into a comfortable place, just him and the music and this strange new occupant that slotted right in like he was meant to be there, he felt his face change. He felt his mouth twitch, the corners tugging up. He saw Mark’s expression shifting, lighting up. A smile spread on his face. It started out small but then it grew as the song mounted, rising, building. 

Donghyuck could hear his voice dominating the stretch of seconds that led up to the moment in the choreography where the other members were meant to move aside and leave him dancing alone. He felt it lift him higher, make his steps lighter. Mark was grinning, and Donghyuck’s own smile was crooked and broad. 

He broke eye contact with Mark, closing his eyes. He closed out his solo by feel alone. He knew Mark was in the room, watching, captivated. He finished the song with a flourish, easy, his movements fluid, shifting and changing in an instant, flowing like vapor through air. 

The last echoing notes of the song faded out. Donghyuck cracked open his eyes, increasingly aware, increasingly attuned to all the hard-earned aches and twinges in his limbs. His gaze searched not for his reflection, but for Mark. 

Mark was looking at him in a way that stole every last bit of air from Donghyuck’s lungs. He was still smiling, but it was no longer a grin. At first Donghyuck thought his smile had softened, though he realized after a moment that wasn’t quite right. It had gone subtler, but it wasn’t softened, when Donghyuck looked closer. Mark’s gaze was sharp, attuned. His eyes glinted, dark and discreet in the harsh light of the practice room. 

Donghyuck took in a hitching breath of air as it struck him. 

He thought he’d seen Mark want before. He hadn’t, he realized. Not until now. Not until that very moment. This was a new want, naked and blatant. It was written across his features, in his gaze, in the distracted list of his body against the mirror behind him.

Donghyuck felt a crack, a fracturing hairline along a delicate porcelain shell that lay just beneath his skin. Something breaking through. He’d seen want so many times, on so many faces, in all varying degrees. He’d never been wanted like this, though. He’d never been wanted without playing a persona, without playing out some other person’s picture of him. He’d never been wanted like this, as Donghyuck. 

“Well?” Donghyuck spoke, breathless. He watched Mark, attentive, “How did it look? Was that better?”

He saw Mark’s lip corner quirk up and his heart lurched.

“Why do I get the feeling you already know?”

Donghyuck broke eye contact. His smile went tremulous, his lips quivering with his sudden surety that Mark’s response mattered more to him than he should have allowed it. Mark’s opinion on him mattered the most, and that terrified him, and thrilled him. When he looked back, he stuck his hands, just barely shaking, in the pockets of his sweatpants. He started towards Mark.

“Humor me.”

Mark’s eyes glinted with amusement as Donghyuck neared him. 

“It was good,” Mark said.

“Not even ‘really good’ this time… ouch,” Donghyuck replied, pressing his lips together to try and dampen his smile.  

He was close enough to Mark that he could make out the subtle differences in his outfit that day. While he hadn’t come wearing a simple tee, he wasn’t wearing a tie, either. His shirt had a few buttons undone, exposing a few inches of skin, the jut of his collarbones. 

He dragged his eyes up. Mark had a brow raised. Donghyuck straying gaze hadn’t escaped his notice. He looked helplessly amused.

“You want to know what I honestly thought?”

Always, Donghyuck didn’t say. Instead, he nodded. He stopped, standing in front of Mark, his hands in his pockets. 

Mark’s gaze fell to his shoes, then fought its way back up. His smile was sheepish.

“I was glad that I’d never seen you perform like this before in any of those videos. I was – I was so… happy that the first time I got to see you like this, I could be there, in the room.”

Donghyuck quirked his head, questioning. 

“I felt like it was for me,” he said, as though the idea was ridiculous. 

Donghyuck’s cheeks bloomed with heat. _You idiot_ , he thought, though he didn’t know who was more the idiot between the two of them. It had been for him, a performance for only Mark and himself and no one else, and it was the best Donghyuck had ever done it. 

“And you liked that, huh?” he asked. 

Mark’s smile went softer.

“I like thinking that I’m special for you.”

Donghyuck paused. He drew in a careful breath.  

He was usually good with words. He had to be. He could spin a story in a split second. He could construct a persona after exchanging only a few words with a patron. He wasn’t so practiced at telling the truth, though. He couldn’t speak honestly, not like Mark could. He could show him, though. He could show him, he thought.

“Hey,” he drew his hand from his pocket, reaching out, “We’re not in a patron meeting right now. You’re not paying for this. It’s all real.”

Mark glanced down at Donghyuck’s hand, then back up. He looked – anticipating. He had that look in his eye again, that dark, hungry glint. He was waiting. Donghyuck’s mouth felt dry. He curled his fingers in, just short of grasping Mark’s shirt. 

“So… can I kiss you?” 

A moment followed the question. It was probably only a few seconds, a few seconds in which Mark’s lips parted, in which the only sound in the room was the hitched breath Mark took in, as his eyes flitted across Donghyuck’s face. 

“If you want,” he answered, at last. 

Donghyuck felt a grin break out across his face as he uncurled his fingers and reached for Mark’s shirt. He grabbed a handful of the stiff, ironed fabric, creating wrinkles that emanated outwards. Without wasting another moment, he leaned in close, and closed the gap between them. 

He didn’t mean to kiss Mark for too long. It was supposed to be brief. Donghyuck let his eyes fall closed, let their lips brush together with every intention of pulling back in a moment. He always was so bad at following his own intentions around Mark, though. 

Their lips met, and Donghyuck felt a soft puff of air as Mark exhaled across his lips. He shifted, angling closer, slotting their lips together but keeping the pressure gentle. When he breathed in he smelled… Mark. His cologne was faded by evening, the only lasting note of it a deep, rich scent that reminded Donghyuck of overcast days, of droplets of rain that hit the windows of the car during the few moments of calm and solitude in between schedules.

Pull back, Donghyuck told himself. That’s enough. 

Then, Mark let out a small, broken sound. He pressed forward, slow, gentle. Donghyuck felt Mark’s hand land tentatively on his waist, his touch warm through Donghyuck’s thin shirt and sweats. 

Donghyuck felt spellbound, as though some paralyzing force had been cast on him. He couldn’t have pulled away, even if he’d wanted to. Mark’s lips were soft and shifting and his breath hot and damp when his lips parted to drag in much-needed air. 

Donghyuck smoothed out his hand against Mark’s abdomen as he leaned in, deepening the kiss. He felt Mark’s grip on his waist tighten, just for a moment, as he darted his tongue out, testing, searching the thin gap where Mark’s lips were parted. Donghyuck broke the kiss, ducking his head, allowing himself a smile as he caught his breath. 

“Haechan…”

Mark’s voice was breathless, wrecked. Donghyuck looked up, grinning. 

“So that’s how it feels,” he said, without thinking.

Mark’s brows drew together, his lips curled up into a confused smile. 

Donghyuck could feel his hand on his waist and his lips tingled with the lasting memory of his kiss. All he could think about was Mark, and it was all he could do to look at him, as he fought to gather together enough coherence to put forth some semblance of his thoughts into words.

“It feels so much better when it’s with you.”

 Mark’s smile flickered like a weak candlelight, and Donghyuck wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. He felt Mark’s hand trail up the side of his waist, higher, sending small pulses of sensation across his skin. 

It was when Mark repeated “Haechan,” in a soft, laden voice, that Donghyuck realized only one thing could make this better. 

“Haechan,” Mark said. 

For a moment, Donghyuck thought he was about to lean in and kiss him again. 

Instead, he said, “I’m sorry.”

It was Donghyuck’s turn to feel confused. He gazed at Mark, at his face, so close, his features visible in such fine detail. He wondered, but he dismissed it. He shook his head. Whatever Mark felt sorry about, it wasn’t important. 

“Don’t be.” 

His gaze fell low, down to his hand where it lay on Mark’s chest. His heart kept doing funny things. It was funny overall, how he was suddenly nervous, suddenly unsure, even after all that had happened. 

“Can you call me Donghyuck?”

“Donghyuck?” Mark repeated. 

Donghyuck looked up.

Mark seemed lost. It didn’t matter. Not much mattered. Mark had said Donghyuck’s name, and Donghyuck’s heart was beating so, so quick in his chest.

“It’s my name,” Donghyuck explained, half dazed, “My real name, I mean. Not my stage name. No one really calls me it anymore but… I’d like it if you…”

“Oh.”

At last, Mark’s brow cleared. He searched Donghyuck’s face, his expression settling on a smile, small and sure.

“Okay. Donghyuck, right?”

Donghyuck nodded, still in a mild daze. 

Mark’s smile spread wider. Donghyuck wondered if Mark knew then, how special he was to him. 

He must have. He looked so pleased. Mark raised his hand, Donghyuck’s name on his lips again as he leaned in and asked for another kiss. Donghyuck agreed easily, though he couldn’t fathom why Mark was asking permission.

Donghyuck waited, breath bated, but Mark’s mouth never slotted against his. Instead, Donghyuck felt Mark’s lips brush against his eyelid. He froze at the first hint of sensation. It was a light contact, there and gone, so quick Donghyuck almost missed it.

Donghyuck’s hand tensed on Mark’s chest, as he felt Mark’s lips alight on his other eyelid, another gentle, glancing kiss. He’d never experienced anything like it. His eyes fluttered open again. He was brimming with questions, as he watched Mark settle back onto his heels.

Mark’s cheeks were bright crimson, but he had a determined glint in his eye. Donghyuck gazed at him. Unthinking, he raised his hand to his face, hesitating before he might have laid his fingers near his eyes, near the spots where Mark had pressed his kisses.

“Mark…”

Mark’s hand slid back down Donghyuck’s waist to settle low on his hips. Donghyuck tried not to shiver. He felt hyperaware of every point of contact between Mark and him. 

“Was that alright?”

Donghyuck’s face began to feel warm, but he resisted the urge to look away. He nodded.

“It wasn’t what I expected,” he hesitated. His cheeks were probably as flushed as Mark’s, he thought, “...I liked it.”

Mark’s lip corner quirked up.

“Good,” he said, warm, “I’m glad.” 

At long last, Donghyuck convinced himself to pull back. His fingers lingered on Mark’s side as he peeled away from him, but he made himself move. He still had to practice. Just a little. Just enough to ensure that what he’d discovered that day – one of the many things – could help him. 

He could dance so much better, he realized, if he just forgot the thousands of eyes that would be trained on him. He could dance without thinking if he forgot those faceless members of the audience, the patrons, and the company suits, and he’d found that thoughts of Mark extinguished every trace of a thought of them, of all their expectations and their perceptions of him.

 

Donghyuck wondered, as he pulled out of the company lot, Johnny across from him, skyscrapers filling the night sky ahead of them. He wondered if, somehow, he had found a way to please everyone and to keep Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> housekeeping stuff...so i just started my senior year of college and idk how frequently i'll be able to update this fic but it's Not abandoned (although it might be on hiatus until i figure out a good class-writing balance oops!). i still very much can't wait to finish this and share the rest of this story with you guys!


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